A Kingdom Unbowed, A Fury Unbent, A Love Unbroken (Game of Thrones AU)
by cerseiforpresident
Summary: GAME OF THRONES AU When a tragic event occurs in the Seven Kingdoms and a new King sits the throne, will the realm prosper or fall? "A Kingdom Unbowed, A Fury Unbent, A Love Unbroken" follows the journey of William Baratheon through the trials and tribulations of war, politics and romance. Disclaimer: I only own my OCs and plot, all further credit goes to George RR Martin & HBO
1. Prologue

**_PROLOGUE_**

When Robert of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, took the Iron Throne - ending his rebellion and the reign of the Mad King - he saved the Seven Kingdoms and earned the devotion of his people. They all adored Robert, commoners and high borns alike. They wrote and sang songs of his victories, named children after him, held feasts in his honour and presented him with gifts from cities all over the world.

Six years after claiming the throne, Robert visited the Kingdom of Dorne, and returned home to King's Landing with another gift, this one not for him, however, but for his legacy instead. The deal was necessary and the Kingdoms would prosper. It was an exciting day for all. Once again, King Robert was the saviour of the realm - and everybody knew it.

Everybody but two. Two silver-haired children with nothing but a broken legacy; left to pick up the pieces of their father's madness and mother's weakness. They skipped from city to city, leaving behind a new life each time along with a piece of themselves they'd never get back: compassion, love, understanding, safety. One by one, they lost these valuable things. Until one of them left too much of it behind. Then it wasn't they, it was she. Or her. Or Khaleesi. However you put it, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen refused to hail Robert Baratheon as anything but a Usurper and a murderer. And she intended to get her revenge.


	2. APPENDIX

Disclaimer: All characters, with the exemption of William Baratheon and Sarafine Martell, are created and owned by George R R Martin. Appendix format originally by George R R Martin.

 **HOUSE BARATHEON**

The youngest of the Great Houses, born during the Wars of Conquest. Its founder, Orys Baratheon, was rumoured to be Aegon the Dragon's bastard brother. Orys rose through the ranks to become one of Aegon's fiercest commanders. When he defeated and slew Argilac the Arrogant, the last Storm King, Aegon rewarded him with Argilac's castle, lands and daughter. Orys took the girl to bride, and adopted the banner, honors and words of her line. The Baratheon sigil is a crowned stag, black, on a golden field. Their words are Ours is the Fury.

KING ROBERT BARATHEON, the First of His Name

\- his wife, QUEEN CERSEI, of House Lannister

\- their children:

\- PRINCE WILLIAM, heir to the Iron Throne, seventeen

\- his betrothed, PRINCESS SARAFINE, of House Martell, a girl of sixteen

\- PRINCE JOFFREY, a boy of fourteen

\- PRINCESS MYRCELLA, a girl of ten

\- PRINCE TOMMEN, a boy of nine

\- his brothers:

\- STANNIS BARATHEON, Lord of Dragonstone

\- his wife, LADY SELYSE of House Florent

\- their daughter, SHIREEN, a girl of eleven

\- RENLY BARATHEON, Lord of Storm's End

\- his small council:

\- GRAND MAESTER PYCELLE

\- LORD PETYR BAELISH, called LITTLEFINGER, master of coin,

\- LORD STANNIS BARATHEON, master of ships,

\- LORD RENLY BARATHEON, master of laws,

\- SER BARRISTAN SELMY, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,

\- VARYS, a eunuch, called the Spider, master of whisperers,

\- his court and retainers:

\- SER ILYN PAYNE, the King's Justice, a headsman,

\- SER BRONN, a sellsword, sworn shield to Prince William

\- SER SANDOR CLEGANE, called the Hound, sworn shield to Prince Joffrey,

\- JANOS SLYNT, a commoner, commander of the City Watch of King's Landing

\- LANCEL LANNISTER, squire to the King, the Queen's cousin,

\- SER ARON SANTAGAR, master-at-arms,

\- QYBURN, an exiled Maester of the Citadel, serving as the Queen's attendant and counsellor

\- his Kingsguard:

\- SER BARRISTAN SELMY, Lord Commander,

\- SER JAIME LANNISTER, called the Kingslayer,

\- SER BERIC DONDARRION,

\- SER JORAH MORMONT,

\- SER BRYNDEN TULLY,

\- SER LORAS TYRELL,

\- SER DAVOS SEAWORTH

The principal houses sworn to Storm's End are Selmy, Wylde, Trant, Penrose, Errol, Estermont, Tarth, Swann, Dondarrion, Caron.

The principal houses sworn to Dragonstone are Celtigar, Velaryon, Seaworth, Bar Emmon, and Sunglass.

 **HOUSE MARTELL**

Nymeria, the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, brought her ten thousand ships to land in Dorne, the southernmost of the Seven Kingdoms, and took Lord Mors Martell to husband. With her help, he vanquished his rivals to rule all Dorne. The Rhoynar influence remains strong. Thus Dornish rulers style themselves "Prince" rather than "King". Dorne, alone, of the Seven Kingdoms, was never conquered by Aegon the Dragon. It was not permanently joined to the realm until two hundred years later, and then by marriage and treaty, not the sword. Peaceable King Daeron II succeeded where warriors had failed by wedding the Dornish princess Myriah and giving his own sister in marriage to the reigning Prince of Dorne. The Martell banner is a red sun pierced by a golden spear. Their words are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.

DORAN NYMEROS MARTELL, Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne

\- his wife, [MELLARIO], of the Free City of Norvos, died in childbed

\- their children:

\- PRINCESS SARAFINE, their eldest daughter, betrothed to Prince William Baratheon,

\- PRINCE TRYSTANE, a boy of thirteen, heir to Sunspear,

\- his siblings:

\- his sister, [PRINCESS ELIA], wed to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, slain during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- their children:

\- [PRINCESS RHAENYS], a young girl, slain during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- [PRINCE AEGON], a babe, slain during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- his brother, PRINCE OBERYN, the Red Viper

\- his paramore, ELLARIA SAND

\- his household:

\- AREO HOTAH, a Norvoshi sellsword, captain of guards,

\- MAESTER CALEOTTE, counsellor, healer and tutor,

\- his knights and lord bannermen:

\- EDRIC DAYNE, Lord of Starfall,

The principal houses sworn to Sunspear include Jordayne, Santagar, Allyrion, Toland, Yronwood, Wyl, Fowler, and Dayne.

 **HOUSE LANNISTER**

Fair-haired, tall, and handsome, the Lannisters are the blood of Andal adventurers who carved out a mighty kingdom in the western hills and valleys. through the female line they boast of descent from Lann the Cleverm the legendary trickster of the Age of Herous. The gold of Casterly Rock and the Golden Tooth has made them the wealthiest of the Great Houses. Their sigil is a golden lion upon a crimson field. The Lannister words are Hear Me Roar!

TYWIN LANNISTER, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport

\- his wife, [LADY JOANNA], a cousin, died in childbed,

\- their children:

\- SER JAIME, called the Kingslayer, heir to Casterly Rock, a twin to Cersei,

\- QUEEN CERSEI, wife of King Robert I Baratheon, a twin to Jaime,

\- TYRION, called the Imp, a dwarf,

\- his siblings:

\- SER KEVAN, his eldest brother,

\- his wife, DORNA, of House Swyft

\- their eldest son, LANCEL, squire to the king,

\- their twin sons, WILLEM and MARTYN,

\- their infant daughter, JANEI,

\- GENNA, his sister, wed to Ser Emmon Frey,

\- their son, SER CLEOS FREY,

\- their son, TION FREY, a squire,

\- [SER TYGETT], his second brother, died of a pox

\- his widow, DARLESSA, of House Marbrand,

\- their son, TYREK, a squire,

\- [GERION], his youngest brother, lost at sea,

\- his bastard daughter, JOY, a girl of twelve,

\- their cousin, SER STAFFORD LANNISTER, brother to the late Lady Joanna,

\- his daughters, CERENNA and MYRIELLE,

\- his son, SER DAVEN LANNISTER,

\- his counsellor, MAESTER CREYLEN,

\- his chief knights and lords bannermen:

\- LORD LEO LEFFOR,

\- SER ADDAM MARBRAND,

\- SER SANDOR CLEGANE, the Hound

\- SER HARYS SWYFT, father by marriage to Ser Kevan,

\- LORD ANDROS BRAX,

\- SER FORLEY PRESTER,

\- SER AMORY LORCH,

\- VARGO HOAT, of the Free City of Qohor, a sellsword,

Principal houses sworn to Casterly Rock are Payen, Swyft, Marband, Lydden, Banefort, Lefford, Crakehall, Serrett, Broom, Clegane, Prester and Westerling.

 **HOUSE STARK**

The Starks trace their descent form Brendon the Builder and the ancient Kings of Winter. For thousands of years, they ruled from Winterfell as Kings in the North, until Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, chose to swear fealty to Aegon the Dragon rather than give battle. Their blazon is a grey direwolf on an ice-white field. The Stark words are Winter Is Coming.

EDDARD STARK, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North,

\- his wife, LADY CATELYN, of House Tully,

\- their children:

\- ROBB, the heir to Winterfell, sixteen years of age,

\- SANSA, the eldest daughter, thirteen years of age,

\- ARYA, the younger daughter, a girl of eleven,

\- BRANDON, called Bran, ten,

\- RICKON, a boy of five,

\- his bastard son, JON SNOW, a boy of sixteen,

\- his ward, THEON GREYJOY, heir to the Iron Islands,

\- his siblings:

\- [BRANDON], his elder brother, murdered by the command of Aerys II Targaryen,

\- [LYANNA], his younger sister, died in the mountains of Dorne,

\- BENJEN, his younger brother, a man of the Night's Watch,

\- his household:

\- MAESTER LUWIN, counsellor, healer and tutor,

\- VAYON POOLE, steward of Winterfell,

\- JEYNE, his daughter, Sansa's closest friend,

\- JORY CASSEL, captain, of the guard,

\- HALLIS MOLLEN, DESMOND, JACKS, PORTHER, QUENT, ALYN, TOMARD, VARLY, HEWARD, CAYN, WYL, guardsmen

\- SER RODRIK CASSEL, master-at-arms, Jory's uncle,

\- SEPTA MORDANE, tutor to Lord Eddard's daughters,

\- OLD NAN, storyteller, once a wet nurse,

\- HODOR, her great-grandson, a simpleminded stableboy,

\- MIKKEN, smith and armorer

\- his principal lords bannermen:

\- SER HELMAN TALLHART,

\- RICKARD KARSTARK, Lord of Karhold,

\- ROOSE BOLTON, Lord of the Dreadfort,

\- JON UMBER, called the Greatjon,

\- GALBART and ROBETT GLOVER,

\- WYMAN MANDERLY, Lord of White Harbour,

\- MAEGE MORMONT, the Lady of Bear Island,

The principal houses sworn to Winterfell are Karstark, Umber, Flint, Mormont, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Reed, Manderly, Glover, Tallhart, Bolton.

 **HOUSE TYRELL**

The Tyrells rose to power as stewards to the Kings of the Reach, whose domain included their fertile plains of the southwest from the Dornish marches and Blackwater Rush to the shores of the Sunset Sea. Through the female line, the claim descent form Garth Greenhand, gardener king of the First Men, who wore a crown of vines and flowers and made the land bloom. When King Mern, last of the old line, perished on the Field of Fire, his steward Harlen Tyrell surrendered Highgarden to Aegon Targaryen, pledging fealty. Aegon granted him the castle and dominion over the Reach. The Tyrell sigil is a golden rose on a grass-green field. Their words are Growing Strong.

MACE TYRELL, Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach,

\- his wife, LADY ALERIE, of House Hightower of Oldtown,

\- their children:

\- WILLAS, their eldest son, heir to Highgarden,

\- SER GARLAN, called the Gallant, their second son,

\- SER LORAS, the Knight of Flowers, their youngest son, a member of the Kingsguard

\- MARGAERY, their daughter, a maid of fourteen years

\- his widowed mother, LADY OLENNA of House Redwyne, called the Queen of Thrones,

\- his sisters:

\- MINA, wed to Lord Paxter Redwyne,

\- JANNA, wed to Ser Jon Fossoway,

\- his uncles:

\- GARTH, called the Gross, Lord Seneschal of Highgarden,

\- his bastard sons, GARSE and GARRETT FLOWERS,

\- SER MORYN, Lord Commander of the City Watch of Oldtown,

\- MAESTER GORMON, a scholar of the Citadel,

\- his household:

\- MAESTER LOMYS, counsellor, healer and tutor,

\- IGON VYRWEL, captain of the guard,

\- SER VORTIMER CRANE, master-at-arms,

\- his knights and lord bannermen

\- PAXTER REDWYNE, Lord of the Arbor, wed to LADY MINA

\- their children:

\- SER HOARD, mocked as Horror, twin to Hobber

\- SER HOBBER, mocked as Slobber, twin to Horas,

\- DESMERA, a maid of fifteen

\- RANDYLL TARLY, Lord of Horn Hill,

\- SAMWELL, his elder son, a man of the Night's Watch,

\- DICKON, his younger son, heir to Horn Hill,

\- ARYWN OAKHEART, Lady of Old Oak,

\- MATHIS ROWAN, Lord of Goldengrove,

\- LEYTON HIGHTOWER, Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Port,

\- SER JON FOSSOWAY,

Principal houses sworn to Highgarden are Vyrwel, Florent, Oakheart, Hightower, Crane, Tarly, Redwyne, Rowan, Fossoway, and Mullendore.

 **HOUSE TULLY**

The Tullys never reigned as kings, though they held rich lands and the great castle at Riverrun for a thousand years. During the Wars of Conquest, the reverlands belonged to Harren the Black, King of the Isles. Harren's grandfather, King Harwyn Hardhand, had taken the Trident from Arrec the Storm King, whose ancestors had conquered all the way to the Neck three hundred years earlier, slaying the last of the old River Kings. A vain and bloody tyrant, Harren the Black was little loved by those he ruled, and many of the river lords deserted him to join Aegon's host. First among them was Edmyn Tully of Riverrun. When Harren and his line perished in the burning of Harrenhal, Aegon rewarded House Tully by raising Lord Edmyn to dominion over the lands of the Trident and requiring the other river lords to swear him fealty. The Tully sigil is a leaping trout, silver, on a field of rippling blue and red. The Tully words are Family, Duty, Honor.

HOSTER TULLY, Lord of Riverrun,

\- his wife, [LADY MINISA, of House Whent], died in childbed,

\- their children:

\- CATELYN, the eldest daughter, wed to lord Eddard Stark,

\- LYSA, the younger daughter, widow to Lord Jon Arryn,

\- SER EDMURE, heir to Riverrun,

\- his brother, SER BRYNDEN, called the Blackfish, a member of the Kingsguard,

\- his household:

\- MAESTER VYMAN, counsellor, healer and tutor,

\- SER DESMOND GRELL, master-at-arms,

\- SER ROBIN RYGER, captain of the guard,

\- UTHERYDES WAYN, steward of Riverrun,

\- his knights and lords bannermen

\- JASON MALLISTER, Lord of Seagard,

\- PATREK MALLISTER, his son and heir,

\- WALDER FREY, Lord of theCrossing,

\- his numerous sons, grandsons and bastards,

\- JONOS BRACKEN, Lord of the Stone Hedge,

\- TYTOS BLACKWOOD, Lord of Raventree,

\- SER RAYMUN DARRY,

\- SER KARYL VANCE,

\- SER MARQ PIPER,

\- SHELLA WENT, Lady of Harrenhal,

\- SER WILLIS WODE, a knight in her service,

Lesser houses sworn to Riverrun include Darry, Frey, Mallister, Bracken, Blackwood, Whent, Ryger, Piper, Vance.

 **HOUSE GREYJOY**

The Greyjoys of Pyke claim descent from the Grey King of the Age of Heroes. Legend says the Grey King ruled not only the western isles but the sea itself, and took a mermaid to wife.

For thousands of years, raiders from the Iron Islands—called "ironmen" by those they plundered—were the terrors of the seas, sailing as far as the Port of Ibben and the Summer Isles. They prided themselves on their fierceness in battle and their sacred freedoms. Each island had its own "salt king" and "rock king". The High King of the Isles was chosen from among their number, until King Urron made the throne hereditary by murdering the other kings when they assembled for a choosing. Urron's own line was extinguished a thousand years later when the Andals swept over the islands. The Greyjoys, like other island lords, intermarried with the conquerors.

The Iron Kings extended their rule far beyond the isles themselves, carving kingdoms out of the mainland with fire and sword. King Qhored could truthfully boast that his writ ran "wherever men can smell salt water or hear the crash of waves". In later centuries, Qhored's descendents lost the Arbor, Oldtown, Bear Island, and much of the western shore. Still, come the Wars of Conquest, King Harren the Black ruled all the lands between the mountains, from the Neck to the Blackwater Rush. When Harren and his sons perished in the fall of Harrenhal, Aegon Targaryen granted the riverlands to House Tully, and allowed the surviving lords of the Iron Islands to revive their ancient custom and chose who should have the primacy among them. They chose Lord Vickon Greyjoy of Pyke.

The Greyjoy sigil is a golden kraken upon a black field. Their words are We Do Not Sow.

BALON GREYJOY, Lord of the Iron Islands, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind, Lord Reaper of Pyke,

\- his wife, LADY ALANNYS, of house Harlaw,

\- their children:

\- [RODRIK], their eldest son, slain at Seagard during Greyjoy's Rebellion,

\- YARA, their daughter, captain of the Black Wind,

\- THEON, their sole surviving son, heir to Pyke, a ward of Lord Eddard Stark,

\- his brothers:

\- EURON, called Crow's Eye, captain of the Silence, an outlaw, pirate and raider,

\- VICTARION, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet,

\- AERON, called Damphair, a priest of the Drowned God,

Lesser houses sworn to Pyke include Harlaw, Stonehouse, Merlyn, Sunderly, Botley, Tawney, Wynch and Goodbrother.

 **HOUSE TARGARYEN**

 **The Old Dynasty**

The Targaryens are the blood of the dragon, descended from the high lords of the ancient Freehold of Valyria, their heritage proclaimed in a striking (some say inhuman) beauty, with lilac or indigo or violet eyes and hair of silver-gold or platinum white.

Aegon the Dragon's ancestors escaped the Doom of Valyria and the chaos and slaughter that followed to settle on Dragonstone, a rocky island in the narrow sea. It was form there that Aegon and his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys sailed to conquer the Seven Kindgoms. To preserve the blood royal and keep it pure, House Targaryen has often followed the Valyrian custom of wedding brother to sister. Aegon himself took both sisters to wife, and fathered sons on each. The Targaryen banner is a three-headed dragon, red on black, the three heads representing Aegon and his sisters. The Targaryen words are Fire and Blood.

 **THE TARGARYEN SUCCESSION dated by years after Aegon's Landing**

1-37 Aegon I - Aegon the Conqueror, Aegon the Dragon

37-42 Aenys I - son of Aegon and Rhaenys

42-48 Maegor I - Maegor the Cruel, son of Aegon and Visenya,

48-103 Jaehaerys I - the Old King, the conciliator, Aenys's son,

103-129 Viserys I - grandson to Jaehaerys,

129-131 Aegon II - eldest son of Viserys,

(Aegon II's ascent was disputed by his sister Rhaenyra, a year his elder. Both perished in the war between them, called by singers the Dance of Dragons)

131-157 Aegon III - the Dragonbane, Rhaenyra's son,

(The last of the Targaryen dragons died during the reign of Aegon III)

157-161 Daeron I - The Young Dragon, the Boy King, eldest son of Aegon III,

(Daeron conquered Dorne, but was unable to hold it, and died young)

161-171 Baelor I - the Beloved, the Blessed, septon and king, second son of Aegon III,

171-172 Viserys II - younger brother of Aegon III,

172-184 Aegon IV - the Unworthy, eldest son of Viserys,

(His younger brother, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, was champion and some say lover to Queen Naerys)

184-209 Daeron II - Queen Narys' son, by Aegon or Aemon, (Daeron brought Dorne into the realm by wedding the Dornish princess Myriah)

209-221 Aerys I - second son to Daeron, left no issue,

221-233 Maekar I - fourth son to Daeron II,

233-259 Aegon V - the Unlikely, Maekar's fourth,

259-262 Jaehaerys II - second son of Aegon the Unlikely,

262-283 Aerys II - the Mad King, only son to Jaehaerys,

Therein the line of the dragon kings ended, when Aerys II was dethroned and killed, along with his heir, the crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen, slain by Robert Baratheon on the Trident.

 **The Last Targaryens**

[KING AERYS TARGARYEN], the Second of His Name, slain by Jaime Lannister during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- his sister and wife [QUEEN RHAELLA] of House Targaryen, died in childbed on Dragonstone,

\- their children:

\- [PRINCE RHAEGAR], heir to the Iron Throne, slain by Robert Baratheon on the Trident,

\- his wife, [PRINCESS ELIA] of House Martell, slain during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- their children

\- [PRINCESS RHAENYS], a young girl, slain during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- [PRINCE AEGON], a babe, slain during the Sack of King's Landing,

\- PRINCE VISERYS, styling himself Viserys, the Third of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, called the Beggar King,

\- PRINCESS DAENERYS, called Daenerys Stormborn, a maid of sixteen years.


	3. Cast

**CAST**

 **Arianna** **Ajtar** as **Sarafine** **Martell**

 **Orlando** **Bloom** as **William** **Baratheon**

 **The Original HBO "Game of Thrones" Cast** as **their** **respective** **characters**

A/N

William Baratheon is played by a "Pirates of the Caribbean" era Orlando :)


	4. I - Sarafine

**_SARAFINE I_**

The wheelhouse maintained its steady rock from left to right as it had for the past four weeks on the journey from King's Landing in the South to Winterfell in the North. It's interior had become almost more familiar to Princess Sarafine than her chambers in the Red Keep which she'd known since she was a child.

It was a rectangular structure, rather dim on the inside and decorated in reds and golds and beautiful embroideries. Queen Cersei sat on its left side, speaking with young Prince Tommen, her son, a boy of nine with hair as gold as the sun. Princess Myrcella sat next to Princess Sarafine in the back side of the vehicle, chatting about their first visit to the Northern fortress of Winterfell - or the North at all for that matter.

The two princesses had barely left the South, though Sarafine had seen more of the Seven Kingdoms than Myrcella, being herself a Princess of Dorne, born in Sunspear and living their until her sixth year before being sent to King's Landing. The only place she had been was Highgarden in the Reach for a tourney at some Tyrell boy's wedding; where Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers, was named to the Kingsguard. That was last year and had been rather enjoyable - but she wished to see more of the world.

"Do you think Winterfell will be as cold as they say?" Princess Myrcella asked.

"Colder," Sarafine responded, "it's not more than a few days ride from the Wall itself,"

"The Wall," the blonde princess mused, "I've never seen the Wall."

"Would you like to?"

"I don't know,"

"Don't fret the wildlings, princess. The Night's Watch are strong," Sarafine reassured the young girl.

"Will they protect us?"

"They already do, sweet,"

"And from the White Walkers?"

"Stories, my sweet girl," Queen Cersei joined in.

Myrcella faced her mother, the picture of grace and sophistication. She was like a mother to Sarafine. Cersei had raised her; taught her what it meant to be a woman and shown her what it meant to be a queen. She was Sarafine's strongest influence and her closest confidant.

"How far are we from Winterfell, mother?" Myrcella asked.

"Not far now," the Queen looked to their Septa who tapped the front side of the cart and inquired of their whereabouts to the riders. Sarafine did not hear the response, but the Septa informed them that the castles and gates were now in sight.

Myrcella moved over to a pair of handmaidens who began adjusting her hair.

"Did you speak to William this morning?" Cersei asked Sarafine.

"No, I believe he rode at first light with the King."

"I see," she took a strand of Sarafine's hair, twirling it in her fingers and placing it down, "you look lovely this morning, my princess."

She was clothed in a burgundy gown with long sleeves down to her wrists. Over it, she wore a black coat, trimmed with grey and white fur around her shoulders and toward the front - it had been gifted to her that morning from the Queen, who wore one very similar in gold with brown and white fur trimming. Cersei and Sarafine had matching hairstyles also; their long hair flowing over their shoulders with the top of it braided behind the head, then falling in with the rest. Cersei's hair ran the gold of the Lannister lion, whilst Sara's was a rich and dark brown, so dark that sometimes it was mistaken for black. Myrcella's hair was styled the same.

"Lord Eddard, is he a good man?" Sarafine asked of the Warden of the North.

Jon Arryn, Robert's previous Hand, had passed of a fever a moon past. The Kingdom remained in mourning. He had always been kind to Sarafine. Lord Arryn had a good heart. He was what saved the realm from further fighting after Robert had sat the Throne. Now, Robert was to name Lord Eddard Stark the Hand of the King.

"Robert says so, though I've never met him. Jaime has...says he's one of the most honourable men in the Seven Kingdoms."

"He shall make a good hand then, I hope,"

"Indeed he will, my sweet. It will be nice, at the least, to see some fresh faces at court,"

The Septa began telling everyone when to exit the wheelhouse upon arrival. First would be the handmaidens, then the Septa, then Prince Tommen, then Myrcella, Sarafine, and Queen Cersei. The wheelhouse soon came to a halt and the door was opened by the Lannister guards who rode outside of it the entire way up the Kingsroad. Sarafine could not say she knew them, for they were outside and she was in, but she thanked them nonetheless. Everyone stepped out in order.

Winterfell was cold in more ways than temperature. It's castles were grey stone, it's skies were grey clouds, it's ground was dark dirt. It wasn't the most exciting place she had ever been, but it was somewhere new. The people looked cold, even. Dressed in dark greens and greys, browns and blacks and duck egg. Sarafine suddenly felt out of place in her rich maroon, though the Queen would've felt the same, so that feeling went away quickly.

Sarafine stood next to Princess Myrcella, their hands both at their sides, watching it all unfold. Ser Jaime, Cersei's twin brother, removed his helm and dismounted to the right of the wheelhouse, Prince Joffrey and his sworn sword Sandor Clegane right beside him, remaining on their mounts however. King Robert rode in from behind the wheelhouse, eliciting a kneel from all of Lord Eddard's household. Prince William, the future King, rode in from behind him, remaining on his mount also.

Prince William was clothed in dark colors, like that of the Northerners. His doublet dark brown and his riding pants black. Sarafine admired this look, it suited him. He looked to her from where he sat and smiled ever so slightly and it took all she could not to blush. She smiled slightly at him too, nodding as she did. They turned their attention to the King.

Sarafine observed the Stark household as they were lined up in formation before Robert. She remembered what she'd been taught. In the middle there, was Lord Eddard. He was tall and bearded, aged in the face with cool grey eyes. His cloak was heavy, and looked to weigh him down almost. Lady Catelyn Tully, his wife, stood to his left. Her dark auburn hair was long and flowing, her face hard but her smile soft. She was shorter than Eddard by at least half a foot, and had a weary look in her eyes.

Next to her stood the youngest of the Stark children, Rickon, a boy of five if Sarafine remembered correctly. The rest of the children stood to Lord Stark's right. There was the first-born son and heir to Winterfell, Robb Stark, who was the same age as Sarafine. His jaw was strongly defined and his hair nearly as dark as hers, a strong contrast to the first-born daughter of the Starks, Sansa, whose hair ran a bright auburn. She was younger than Sarafine and just as pretty; with ice-blue eyes and a sweet smile. Next to her stood Arya, a girl of eleven who looked nothing like Sansa but was equally as pretty. After her was Bran, a boy of ten.

Their counsellors and guards stood behind them as Robert began greeting the Stark family, Cersei following. An exchange occurred which Sarafine could not hear, Robert and Lord Stark then moving away and down to what she believed were the crypts of Winterfell, just as Cersei had predicted they would. The rest of the household stood there, the queen calling forward her children, Sara included.

A royal announcer began naming them, "Prince William Baratheon, Princess Sarafine Martell, Prince Joffrey Baratheon, Princess Myrcella Baratheon and Prince Tommen Baratheon."

Sarafine curtseyed at the sound of her name, knowing the eyes of everyone were on her, but only feeling Will's. She glanced his way as Myrcella curtseyed and caught his eye before turning back to a line-up of bowing and curtseying Starks. The royal party were shown to chambers by a steward of the of Winterfell. Princess Sarafine's chamber was two doors down the hall from the King and Queen's. The castle which they were occupying was long; Robert and Cersei's chamber was at the end of the hallway, William's chamber was on the left side of the hall and the first door down from his parents. Joffrey's chamber was next to his, and then Tommen's. On the right side were Myrcella and Sarafine's chambers. They were to remain at Winterfell for a fortnight, beginning their stay with a feast in the Great Hall.

The princess of Dorne attended in another gown of maroon silk, this one with wide sleeves from the elbow down. It was detailed with gold embroidery on the bottom of her skirts and neckline, where the gown formed an oval shape around her body, holding itself upright without even touching her above her breasts, leaving her shoulders bare. Her hair was in some sort of extravagant combination of braids and curls which was near impossible to describe but beautiful nonetheless. The feast was loud and crowded, with all sorts of people; smiths, lords, knights, ladies, handmaidens, cooks. It was lovely.

Robert and Cersei sat with Lord and Lady Stark up at the High Table in the Great Hall, chatting and drinking and eating and laughing. Sarafine herself was seated just below them, with the princes and princess and the Stark children. No one remained seated in their one place however, with the constant movement and chatter.

"What do you make of Winterfell, princess?" Robb Stark asked her.

"It's quite pleasant, truly! Much cooler than King's Landing, however," she laughed in response - though the hall was filled with people and candles and fires in hearths, it was almost easy to forget that Winterfell was in the North at all.

"I've never seen the capital,"

"You must visit someday, my lord. King's Landing is beautiful; it never grows cold there,"

"Ha!" Robb guffawed, "winter is coming,"

"Stark words, I believe, you won't hear much of that in the South,"

"Dornish do not get a winter either?"

"Oh, there's a winter, it just feels exactly like the summer is all."

"Are you going to be the queen, some day?" Arya asked her from next to Robb.

"Yes, she will be," Prince William said, sliding next to her on the bench.

He smiled at her. Prince William did not look like the other Baratheon children, who took after their mother with golden hair and green eyes, except for Joffrey, who shared the blue of the father's. Will was dark haired, like Robert. His eyes were a light brown, with hints of green in them. The maesters believed it was a good omen for his leadership, though Will dismissed it whenever anyone spoke of it.

"And you're going to be King?" Arya asked him.

"Not for a long time, but yes," he responded.

"Where's Sansa?" Robb asked Arya.

Sara looked around and saw Sansa speaking to the Queen at the High Table. Cersei looked upon her with a curious eye. Truth be told, Sansa was to be betrothed to Prince Joffrey, if her father agreed to King Robert's proposal. Prince Joffrey would inherit Dragonstone, should the King's brother, Lord Stannis, fail to produce a male heir (which looked unlikely, considering his three stillborns, sickly daughter and ageing wife).

Sansa returned to the table blushing, this time sitting toward the left end with another girl whom Sarafine did not know. Joffrey smiled at the young lady and she smiled back, Sara watching the encounter. Arya soon ruined the _romantic_ moment, flinging some of her meat onto Sansa's pale face. The girl was mortified, her friend attempting to clean it off her. Joffrey lost interest, sipping wine and looking around the hall with an observant eye.

Robb collected Arya in his hands and took her out of the hall, chuckling as she whined.

"Northerners are all brutes," Joffrey spoke. Will and Sara turned their heads to him.

"Oh, have _you_ met every northerner?" Will responded, eliciting a laugh from Sarafine

"Well…no…but,"

"Don't speak ill of people in their own home…it's unappealing," Will commented, sipping wine.

"You're to marry a Northern girl, my prince, if the King Brute accepts your father's offer," Sara joked.

Joffrey got up from the table, walking off to somewhere unknown and uncared for. Will turned back to face his princess.

"He's the picture of kindness, my brother,"

"Mm, the realm prospers from his heartfelt deeds," they laughed. Robb's hand leant on the bench space behind Sarafine as they spoke.

"You look lovely tonight, princess,"

"And you more handsome, my prince,"

"You don't have to say it back every time," he laughed softly, moving a strand of hair out of her face.

She knew she didn't have to say it back every time, but she did. And she meant it every time too. He was striking, a strong young man, the future king - and he was to be her husband. She doubted that there was anyone more lucky in marriage betrothals than she. Will was admired and adored by every young woman who laid eyes on him, as Robert was in his youth. But he was Sarafine's and she was his, making him equally as lucky.

The Dornish Princess was proclaimed as one of the most beautiful girls in the Seven Kingdoms. Her hair ran thick, dark and long and her skin was the same olive as the people of her birthplace. Her eyes were light brown, similar to William's, deep and expressive yet glinting with all the colours which they saw. The pair fit together like a sword and its sheath - laughing and flirting and talking whenever they got the chance, picking up right where they left off each time. She refused to call it love yet, but she knew.

Sarafine admired Robert and Cersei. Their love for each other was strong, despite how they were brought together. They built it - day by day; and the realm prospered because of it. Robert bore great love for her and she bore great love for him - and four beautiful children. Their marriage would go down in history. Their love may not, but Sarafine would always remember what it is and was. She hoped that her and William would share that forever too, and was beyond excited for their journey to _truly_ begin.

"Do you think that Lord Stark will accept your father's proposal?"

"He should do, they were like brother's once…Ned's never refused a call."

"Who will be your Hand, when your time comes?"

"My grandfather, most likely. He's the smartest man I know, and the most experienced. Who would you choose?"

"I can't be king!" she laughed.

"But if you were," he asked, intrigued. She thought for a moment.

"Your mother. She's the smartest woman I know and she knows what it means to rule. I feel like she's my mother too, in truth," she said and he smiled at her.

"I should be proud to call you my queen, someday,"

"And I to call you my king," she smiled at the ground as he kissed her hand.


	5. I - William

**_WILLIAM I_**

His father and Ned Stark began the hunt early that morning. William went along with them upon Robert's request. He was an adventurous man, Will's father, he enjoyed drinking and eating and it had made him nice and fat - but he'd never lost his sense of adventure. Will's mount was black as night, strong and quick - he loved to ride and feel the rush of wind on his face and in his hair. To move without moving his own legs and to command something without even opening his mouth. Will had always been a good rider.

From what he gathered of that morning, Lord Eddard had accepted King Robert's proposal; he would become hand of the King and his eldest daughter would be married to Joffrey in due time. They were to ride for King's Landing that noon, shortening their trip by a week.

They spoke the whole time, Robert and Ned, but Will remained fairly quiet - preferring to listen to their exchanges. They discussed many things: the betrothal, the rebellion which landed Robert as King seventeen years ago, the North, winter, Jon Arryn. It went on and on and Will listened to every word. They returned at midday with a fat boar, shot by the Prince himself.

Their things were packed and everyone prepared to leave for the Kingsroad. The Queen's wheelhouse was loaded up and he watched as his mother, his sister, his youngest brother and his betrothed stepped inside of it, feeling slight regret at not returning earlier to see her.

"I know what I'm putting you through, thank you for saying yes. I only ask you because I need you, you're a loyal friend - you hear me," Will overheard Robert say to Ned as they saddled up for the second time today.

The Kingsroad went all the way from Castle Black at the Wall, past Winterfell, through the Neck and King's Landing, to Storm's End, just south of the capital. It would be a long ride ahead of them but once they were home, they would be home for a good while - Will liked the sound of that. King's Landing was a beautiful city. Sure, Flea Bottom was a bit dirty and its slums weren't always smelling of sweet perfumes - but the city was his home. He adored the noise and the excitement and the crowds and the view of Blackwater Bay at night, when it truly earned it's name. Will adored it all and he never strayed too far from the place he called home - for long, anyway.

He rode with his father, sans the new Hand of the King who was riding with his daughters and young son Bran.

"Different to the South, isn't it?" his father started.

"Aye, how long since you've visited?

"Nine years?" Robert recalled, slightly unsure.

"What for?"

"Some wedding or tourney, I can't remember, you were only young. You and your mother stayed in the capital, Tommen had only just been born."

"I recall, somewhat…still in the long summer?"

"Aye, Will, the long summer. Never ending bloody summer. Do you know how hard it is for fat men like me to stand the heat?" his father laughed as did Will.

"Well, father, you do sit most of the time," Will jested in return, receiving a hearty laugh from Robert.

"When you're King, go to every bloody tourney or pompous wedding you can…only peace you'll ever get from ruling," Robert scoffed.

"I assume we'll be having a tourney, in due time."

"Aye, now that the Hand has been named, a tourney is in order. I guess we have that to look forward to. Wouldn't you love to ride?"

"Aye, if I could. Mother would have some say in it though, I imagine," Will laughed, looking back to the Wheelhouse fifty or so feet behind them.

Will continued to jest with his father until the party stopped at an inn for the eve, to resume riding tomorrow morning.

"Go on," Robert began, dismounting.

"What?" Will asked.

"Sarafine. Go see her,"

Will looked at his father, studying his face.

"I was your age once too, you know. Betrothed to a great beauty, also," Robert smiled, looking to his wife who was exiting the Wheelhouse. She smiled back at them and then his father was gone, making his way to his beloved queen. Sarafine stood closely behind her.

 _One day,_ William thought, _one day._

He smiled at his princess, and she returned the smile. Sarafine was the most beautiful girl Will had ever laid eyes on. She glowed from the inside out, always kind and generous to everyone she ever came across. She loved and loved to love. She was the only thing he'd ever wanted. Being King, ruling the Seven Kingdoms, commanding armies and sitting on the Iron Throne didn't mean a thing to Will without the promise of Sarafine by his side when he did.

The betrothal was arranged upon Sarafine's birth, with neither of them finding out until years later. She came to live in the Red Keep when William was six, and he found out she was to be his wife when he turned thirteen, though he'd always suspected - and was beyond delighted at the news.

"Princess Sarafine," he said, finally reaching her as Robert and Cersei began to discuss their days riding and wheelhous-ing.

"Prince William, I hear your hunt was rather successful this morning," she curtseyed.

"Aye, a boar."

"Will we be dining on it tonight?"

"I believe so, my princess. May I escort you to the hall?" he held is arm out for her.

"You may," she placed her hand on his bicep and her other on his forearm, allowing him to lead her where he pleased, "you must be exhausted,"

"Nothing I can't handle," he jested and she smiled sheepishly at him. Her touch thrilled him, burning through his doublet as if her fingers were on his bare skin, leaving their precious marks. It was all he could to not think of it, "was your ride alright?"

"Yes, the wheelhouse is quite comfortable, truly. It rocks a bit, but I prefer it to riding for hours on end," she said, nodding in sync with him at his uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister, a member of Robert's Kingsguard. Jaime nodded in return, smirking all the while.

"Ah, but you ride well," Will continued to Sarafine.

"I ride with tolerance," she laughed and he lead her to his mount.

"You don't enjoy it?" he asked, her left hand leaving the Prince's forearm and brushing over the black hair which covered the stallion's neck.

"I enjoy it enough, but not from dawn til dusk," the horse turned to face her at her touch, yet she did not falter, only petting it's face before it was taken away to the stables by a young stableboy.

"I see,"

"The Stark girls are to ride with us tomorrow, as per her grace's request," she informed him.

"Are you well acquainted?"

"Not at all, I only spoke to them briefly at the feast when we arrived, you remember?"

"Aye, Lady Arya tossed food on Lady Sansa's face, I believe,"

"I quite remember Myrcella once doing the same to Joffrey," she reminded him.

"I quite remember Joffrey reacting exactly the same," he quipped, Sarafine laughing at the memory. Her grip became stronger around his arm, and for a moment it felt as if she had leant into him.

As if they were the only people within a mile each way.

"Will?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Do you remember Dorne? From when you came to visit?"

"Of course, it was bright and hot and…fascinating. I remember riding on the beaches of Dorne one morning, with my father. Dornish steeds are some of the finest in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Aye, they are. Strong animals, tireless."

"Why do you ask?"

"I've been curious about it. I don't remember much from being six years old," she spoke with a hint of sadness.

"Do you wish to visit?"

"Some day, maybe," she paused, "if I'm honest, it doesn't feel like home to me. I was raised in the capital, that's more my home than anywhere."

"When we are married, we shall go, hmm?" he suggested and she blushed.

"That would be lovely," she smiled to him as they arrived in the hall.

"Princess," a Lannister guard approached, "your chambers have been prepared."

"I'll escort her," William interrupted.

"Prince William, I believe your father has requested you dine with him and Lord Eddard in his grace's room," the guard continued, bringing a sudden feeling of disappointment over the prince.

"Aye, a moment please," Will said, the guard stepping away. He turned to Sarafine, "duty calls."

"Give your father my regards, my prince."

"Aye, I shall speak to you on the morrow," he kissed her hand.

"I shall look forward to it," she smiled, "rest well my prince."

"And you, my princess." he whispered and she was gone.

He rode early the next morning and did so for days and days. Exhaustion nearly consumed William, but home got nearer every day and he wanted home. Home meant learning, court, family, the busyness of the streets and the open sea just outside his window. And her.

They passed the Neck and travelled below the Vale, following the Kingsroad to the King's home. They stopped for lunch in Lord Harroway's Town after noon with no plans to continue further south until the next morning. And this time, it was his mother - the Queen - who requested to dine with him.

The inn was of a modest size, most of the party having to make camp outside, save the royal family and Kingsguard. It was fairly dark, reminding him of the North. Stewards and guards moved some things of his into a room in the inn. His father walked past him, surrounded by Ser Jaime Lannister and the Knight of the Flowers, Ser Loras - two members of his Kingsguard. Their golden armour shone bright, even in the dark of the dining hall.

"Your mother wants you," Jaime reminded Will.

"I'm on my way to her now."

"Aye," Jaime said, hiding something. Will went to ask him before another voice interrupted.

"Gods, Jaime, find me Joffrey," Robert bellowed and before the prince could utter a word, his uncle was gone. Lancel Lannister, his second cousin and father's squire, walked past.

"Lancel," Will demanded, grasping the timid boy's arm. Lancel was no younger than the prince, but certainly only half the man…at most. His great-uncle Kevan had Cersei place him as a squire for Robert in hopes that it would "make him a man". So far; no progress had been made.

"What's the trouble? Why is my father looking for Joffrey?"

"His grace wishes to see the prince's injuries, my prince."

"Injuries?" Will questioned, lost.

"Damn it, Lancel, bring me my wine!" Robert shouted from a table in the hall. Will let go of the squire's arm, releasing him to attend to the King.

An array of coloured silks appeared in a staircase and rushed past Will and through to the King's seat. His mother's voice rose from the rush, overpowering them all.

"Where is he? Where is Joffrey?" she demanded.

"He's with Qyburn, Your Grace," someone responded.

"Bring him to me."

William approached the table, "what happened to Joffrey?"

"He's made a bloody fool of himself, that's what," the King said angrily, taking another gulp of his wine.

"William," Cersei wrapped her arms around her first born son.

"Mother," he returned her embrace.

"What happened? Why is father angry?"

"Joffrey…he…was attacked by a direwolf. One of the Stark girls' pets set on him after he-"

The doors to the inn slammed shut, a sulking and bandaged Joffrey entering the room. The elder of the Stark girls rushed in behind him, with a skin of wine and a face full of tears.

"Where's the Stark girl? The younger one? Bring her to me now so we can be done with this."

"The Hand's men are out searching for her, Your Grace. No one's seen her since the prince returned," Ser Jaime answered.

Cersei rushed over to the bleeding boy and Lady Sansa was escorted upstairs by her Septa, who appeared to be making failed attempts at comforting her. William turned back to his father.

"Here, boy! What is the meaning of this?" Robert commanded. Joffrey strode past the queen.

"That Northern _bitch_!" Joffrey shouted, "she _attacked_ me, she and her wolf!"

"Who attacked you?"

"Arya, the grimey little cunt."

"You'll watch your tongue," Robert spat, "I'm your father and your King."

Joffrey huffed, pouting his face and leaning on his left leg, the cocky young man he was. William had seen his father angry, and seen his father furious. And this was nearly the angriest he'd seen him.

"And just why did she _attack_ you?" Robert continued, standing.

"She disobeyed my orders!"

"You don't give orders, you wear no crown!" the King roared and the inn doors opened, the younger Stark girl entering with two Lannister guardsmen.

"She was fighting with a wooden sword! Against a butcher's boy!" the younger prince yelled, pointing to the terrified girl.

"Your grace," she began and Robert held his hand in the air, calling for silence. Cersei stood next to William, her hands clasped together and her scowl aimed at everyone in the room.

"What was the nature of this…fighting?" the King asked Arya, calmly.

"Practice, Your Grace. We meant no harm," she was near trembling as she spoke. Robert looked to Joffrey with a frown.

"What brought on this attack?"

"The prince was hurting Mycah, the butcher's boy, I tried to stop him and then my wolf…bit him a little. I never meant for it, Your Grace, I swear it,"

"Hush, child," Robert said gently, turning to Joffrey, "is this true? You hurting the butcher's boy?"

The room was silent as the blonde prince looked at the ground, confirming Robert's fears.

"Dammit, what's it to you?" the King asked his son, furious.

"She's a girl! She's not supposed to fight!" Joffrey whined.

" _She's_ not to be your wife!"

"I am a prince!" Joffrey stomped his foot like an angry child, and looked the picture of one too.

"You are a boy! Clean yourself up, I'll hear no more of this."

"But the wolf!"

"The wolf served it's master - that's more than I can say for you."

Joffrey ran from the hall to somewhere Will did not know, but it was a relief that he was gone. Cersei looked to Robert, who slammed a horn of ale onto the table in rage.

"What?" he looked to her.

"You needn't be so harsh, he is our son," she breathed.

"He's being a fool, I'll be harsh as I need to be."

"As you wish," she said, blank of any emotion, "with me, William," she instructed, turning her eyes to the stairs which she entered the chaos from.


	6. I - Cersei

**_CERSEI I_**

"Your father is still rather angry about that business at Lord Harroway's the other day," she broke the silence in the room while pouring herself a glass of wine.

"Indeed," her son responded, "have you spoken?"

"Yes, briefly. Him and Joffrey have not."

William sat in a chair across from her in her solar, drinking from his own glass. She admired her son. He had all the features of a man; of a king. He was strong, he looked the man, not the boy as he had some years ago, even though it felt like yesterday when she first held him and presented him at court and first watched him walk, and then ride. He may be nearly of age, but he was her boy. Her first boy.

"I can't say that I'm surprised," he said, looking out the balcony to the view of Blackwater Bay.

The King's Party had arrived back in the capital the day before, all exhausted and relieved to have made it back home, Cersei the most. She couldn't say that she had a great love for travel - it felt like so much of a hassle, however, she was Robert's wife and the Queen. It was her duty to stand at his side.

"Joff will hardly even talk to me, now," she admitted, sitting.

"Why you?"

"I do not know," she sighed, "the poor Stark girl, she must be terrified."

"At least the wolves weren't harmed,"

"Joffrey was," she said without thinking.

"Because of his own actions," Will reminded her

"Fair," she sipped her wine, "Robert was harsh. He shouldn't have shamed him in front of so many people like that,"

"Maybe not," he said, refilling his glass, "but maybe Joff will think twice about…being Joff."

Cersei smiled. Joff had never been an easy child, but she loved him all the same. He may have been difficult, but he was her son, and his personality was what made him _him._

Joffrey had called for the slaughter of the Stark children's direwolves once more when Cersei visited him the night of the incident, but she had managed to dissuade him from the idea.

 _"_ _Lady Sansa will remember that, and not in a good way," she said._

 _"_ _Let her," Joffrey spat, "I'll take the beasts head myself, if it so pleases her."_

 _"_ _Do you really wish to kill any chance of love you may have with her?" she had reminded him and he was silent. "Give it a chance, Joff."_

 _"_ _Don't have the wolves harmed," he gave in, "leave me."_

Those were the most words he'd spoken to her since. It may have only been two days, but it felt like longer. She turned her attention back to Will.

"Have you spoken to Sansa at all?" she inquired.

"I have not. Bran Stark I have, but not Lady Sansa," he responded.

Cersei summoned a handmaiden, "please have Lady Sansa brought to me this afternoon, I wish to speak with her."

"Yes, Your Grace," the girl nodded and left the chambers.

"An interrogation, I assume?" Will joked.

She rose from her seat, looking over the Blackwater, "conversation, more like."

"Aye,"

The Blackwater glistened blue in the sunshine. The view of it was enough to bring the Lannister Queen to immediate peace. Casterly Rock had similar views. It stood tall and looked over the ocean - it made her feel like a child again.

"And Sarafine?" she turned back to her son. He looked to the ground, a smile plastered over his face.

"She is well,"

"And you?" she asked, glancing to the Blackwater again.

"Good."

"I want you to talk to Joffrey," she turned away from the view, seating herself across from William again.

"About?"

"Lady Sansa."

"I don't follow,"

"Joffrey doesn't understand…women. Or girls."

"And I do?" he questioned. She laughed to herself, remembering all the little things that Sarafine had told her of her son. He really was oblivious to the…effect…he had on her.

"I think so," she responded. Will adjusted in his seat and set his glass down.

"What am I to say to him?"

"Talk to him about Sara, encourage him. You know what Joff can be like…"

"All too well," he sighed, "is there anything else?"

"No, my sweet," she smiled at him.

William looked just as Robert did seventeen years ago in the Great Sept. Tall, black haired and handsome. He was every girl's dream, as her husband once was. His sweet brown eyes looked to her.

"Would you like me to see father, also?"

"Aye, if you wish," she said, surprised. He exited the solar, leaving Cersei alone with her thoughts and her wine. Ah, her children. They kept her on her toes, but she loved them more than anything in the world.

The Lady Sansa visited her a few hours afterwards, timid as a mouse when Qyburn brought the girl into Cersei's solar.

"How do you like King's Landing, Lady Sansa?" she began.

"It is lovely, Your Grace. Much more exciting than Winterfell,"

"And your siblings, I imagine they are enjoying it also?"

"Yes, they are. They are excited to see His Grace's Kingsguard in court tomorrow."

"The girl, also?" Cersei commented, surprised, "Forgive me, I cannot seem to recall her name."

"Arya, Your Grace."

"Interesting, certainly not common among girls her age,"

"I agree, she seems better with a bow and arrow than with stitching," Lady Sansa revealed.

"I imagine she'll learn in due time," Cersei dismissed the topic, "And you, little bird, what are you excited about?"

"Prince Joffrey has promised to escort me to court himself tomorrow, Your Grace."

"Has he now?" she smiled. William had done well. "I'm sure you will enjoy your first time in the Throne Room. Joffrey would be honoured to give you a tour of it, it's only fitting for your first time there."

"That would be wonderful, Your Grace, but I would hate to oblige on the prince,"

"Nonsense, little bird, I shall speak to him myself. Run along now, I'm sure you are looking to prepare a gown for the occasion."

"Yes, Your Grace," the girl smiled widely, rising from her chair, curtseying and exiting the solar.

The Queen leant back in her chair, smiling. Her valiant sons had made her proud, once again. She thanked the gods that Sansa was as forgiving to Joffrey for his performance on the Kingsroad as he was embarrassed by it.

She rest her head on her Royal husband's chest that evening as they ended their day.

"Two of our sons betrothed, Myrcella with suitors lining up and Tommen sure to be just like his brothers in due time," she mused, her husband's hand running up and down her back softly, "how did we get so lucky?"

He laughed gently, "a lot of bloody politics."

She laughed too, "goodnight, my love."

He kissed her forehead and she was soon asleep.


	7. I - Joffrey

**_JOFFREY I_**

He appeared at the Stark girls' chamber the following morning, clothed in gold and red as per usual. This was out of Joffrey's comfort zone - by a long mile.

Romance was William's gift. Not Joffrey's. Sure, he could talk his way over his discomfort, concealing it with words of endearment and courtesies, but he felt awkward about it all the same. Her chamber door was opened by a handmaiden, revealing his betrothed. She donned a gown of pale green with big sleeves and a fitted bodice, her appearance was pleasing to him.

"My lady," he greeted her with a smile and she returned it with a curtsey. He extended his arm to her, "shall we?"

"You look well this morning, my prince," she spoke, linking her arm through his.

It was a foreign feeling, but nice nonetheless.

"And you, my lady. Are you enjoying the capital?" he continued.

"Yes, my prince, it's everything I hoped it would be," she smiled.

"I am glad. Your hair looks nice this morning," he complimented, noting her more Southern hair style. It suited her.

"Thank you," she began, "if I may, my prince, how is your arm?" she said.

The prince looked to his right arm that swung at his side. He had near forgotten the wound.

"Healing, my lady," he began, "and your sister?"

"She is well," Sansa breathed and Joffrey urgently panicked, searching his mind for a subject change.

"I trust that your brother is enjoying King's Landing also?"

"Bran, yes, he'll be at court this morning also."

His sworn shield walked behind them and Joffrey looked to him whilst the Lady Sansa gazed at the view from the halls that they made their way through. Sandor Clegane shrugged, sensing Joffrey's awkwardness.

"Your dress, my lady, did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, my prince, do you like it?"

"Very much,"

The girl was beautiful, Southern or not, she emulated the grace of his mother and sister. Her skin was fair, like his, and her eyes were a similar shade of blue. But her hair…it was unlike anything he'd seen before. A vibrant auburn. It made everything about her stand out from the crowd to him. Her eyes looked bluer and her skin purer, and he recognised her hairstyle as one that his mother often wore.

They came across the Princess Sarafine before entering the Throne Room, where his father would sit.

"Prince Joffrey, Lady Sansa," she curtseyed, her handmaidens doing the same.

"Princess Sarafine," Joff bowed, "my brother does not attend with you this morning?"

"He was to escort me but The King called my prince in on urgent business, I am told,"

"Allow me to escort you then, princess," he held out his injured arm and she took it gently, wary of the bandage. Her party joined Clegane behind them as they passed through the open doors to that grand room with that iron chair.

The Lords and Ladies of the court turned to watch them enter, each nodding as the prince, his lady, and princess passed. Sarafine smiled at them all, but the same could not be said for the Lady Sansa, who looked upon the former with a critical eye.

His royal father was not yet present on the Throne, his council however standing to its right, save Ned Stark. His mother sat to its left, clothed in a coral coloured gown.

"That's Ser Brynden the Blackfish, your mother's uncle, behind my mother there," Joff tried to distract Sansa, "and Ser Jorah Mormont next to him," he pointed to the two men, cloaked in white and plated in pristine gold.

Joff felt his mother's eyes upon him and saw her smile. He nodded in her direction and he approached the front of the room. The royal announcer began speaking, his mother and the small council standing from their seats.

"His Grace, King Robert of House Baratheon, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Prince William of House Baratheon, First of His Name, and Lord Eddard of House Stark, the Hand of the King and Warden of the North."

Robert entered from the small council chamber, which sat at the back of the Throne Room. He stood at his seat, overlooking his audience before sitting down, the Queen and small council doing the same. Announcements began being made and the small council consented.

"The Crown calls on the Prince Joffrey of House Baratheon and the Lady Sansa of House Stark," the royal announcer spoke.

"Approach," his father spoke gruffly, growing impatient by the minute.

Joff brought Sansa forward on his left arm.

"It is the wish of His Grace and the Hand of the King that Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa are betrothed to wed when both have come of age. The small council consents," the old lecher, Grand Maester Pycelle, read from a scroll of paper.

Joff looked to his Lady, who smiled a wide smile - thrilled at the extravagance of it all.

"Prince Joffrey, do you swear to honor the sacred vow of betrothal?"

"Aye, I do," he responded to the old man, looking at his Lady and her smile all the while.

"Lady Sansa, do you swear to honour the sacred vow of betrothal?"

"By the old gods and the new, I swear it," she responded, nodding her head.

They returned to their place in the crowd, his mother's proud eye on them as they did so.

"The Hand's Tourney will take place next week to celebrate the naming of Lord Stark as Hand of the King. The small council consents."

"Will you ride in the tourney, my prince?" she asked him when Robert had exited the Throne Room and everyone else began to follow.

"Princes aren't allowed to ride in the tourney, my lady," Joffrey reminded her.

"But you are not the heir," she said. She meant it innocently, he knew, but that's not how he took it.

"Law is _law_ ," he said, bitterness in his tone and on his tongue.

"Forgive me, I forgot," she shook her head.

 _Forgot the law, or that I'm even a prince?_ Joff thought, his insecurities about the Kingsroad outburst creeping into his mind.

"But you will attend it?" she asked, timidly. The Prince mentally damned his temper.

"Of course," the prince exhaled, doing his best to push the thought out of his mind, "it's my duty to attend. I expect to see you in the crowds? It is your father's tourney, after all," he smiled.

"I will be there, my prince. I hope to see Ser Barristan the Bold ride, and the Knight of the Flowers, also."

"You will not be disappointed, my lady, both knights of the Kingsguard ride well,"

"Lady Sansa, your father has requested your presence in the Chamber of the Hand," the captain of the Stark household guard said. Their goodbyes were short, and then she was off, her pale green gown and fiery hair all that the prince could see.


	8. II - Sarafine

**_SARAFINE II_**

The Hand's Tourney attracted people from all over the realm. Riders from the North, soldiers from the west, knights from the east and warriors from the south. It was not often that Dornish were seen in the capital, but Sarafine had even been greeted by Lord Edric Dayne, one of her father's bannermen - and his party, of course.

She sat by the Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen on a platform that had been constructed at the tourney grounds. The King and Queen sat central, overlooking the competition, the Dornish princess and her companions seated slightly below them. Joffrey and William were angled next to Cersei and Robert. The platform was decorated with banners - the crowned black stag of House Baratheon on its golden field, next to the white banner of House Stark, emblazoned with a grey direwolf - not unlike the one which bit the blonde prince not so long ago.

The climate of King's Landing was far more forgiving than that of the North, allowing Sarafine to dress without a cloak or fur coat. She wore a deep navy gown, which left most of her shoulders bare in the heat of the South, accessorised with a belt of thin bars of gold - almost like the sun - around her small waist. The neckline was embellished similarly and the princess' hair was worn low, two braids running from the front of her head to the back.

The day was enjoyable, her and her prince trading comments on each ride, even from their separated seats. She felt his eyes on her through the day.

"How do you think Ser Barristan will fair in tomorrows ride against The Hound?"

"Barristan rides well, but Clegane will triumph, I believe," Sarafine responded to William's question on their way to the feast by the grounds, "I should like to see you ride in a tourney, some day."

"Would that I could," her prince sighed.

"Ah, but you will be King. You could ride if you wish, no?"

"I suppose," he considered.

She felt his arms from under his clothing as they walked, hers linked through his. William had strong arms. Arms that would hold her one day. Arms which she longed to be held by now.

"Lord Dayne rode well, it is a shame he rode against the likes of my Uncle," William commented again of the days events.

"I do believe it will come down to Ser Jaime and Clegane."

"And who will triumph there?"

"I think Clegane, but we'll have to wait and see," she smiled

The feast was bursting with accents from all over the realm, and culinary delicacies that had travelled as far. Colour filled the large tent outside the city walls as tapestries and banners hung around it - purples, blues and reds. Sarafine found herself looking to Lady Sansa, who sat between her septa and Prince Joffrey, a few seats down the table from her and William. Joffrey appeared to be…trying.

Cersei had told her of the Kingsroad incident, but wounds had healed since then - figuratively anyway. The blonde prince still donned a bandage on his right forearm. Sansa and Joffrey were speaking pleasantly, but it occurred to Sarafine that her near-brother had been trying more than his betrothed.

"They look happy enough," William commented.

"May I go speak with her? The Lady Sansa?" she requested, her love nodding.

Sarafine rose from her seat. She had only _really_ spoken to Sansa once before - on the Kingsroad when her and her sister rode in the royal wheelhouse with the Queen's party. She was courteous and it was easy to tell she'd been preparing herself to travel south her entire life, whether she knew it or not.

"Prince Joffrey, my lady, septa." Sarafine greeted them all with a nod and they rose from their seats.

"Princess," they said in unison.

"Princess Sarafine, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Joffrey asked.

"Actually, I have come to beg a walk with Lady Sansa. I'm sure you wouldn't mind a moment of fresh air, my lady?"

The red head looked to her prince and back to Sarafine,

"If it please you, princess."

"It does," she smiled and took the pale hand of the Lady Sansa, leading her out of the feast into the cooler air of the outdoors.

"Have you enjoyed the tourney thus far, my lady?"

"Yes, princess," she said, pausing before speaking again, "I imagine it's a much better view from the royal platform."

"It is somewhat, I suppose, but I guess that's the purpose of it being _royal_ , isn't it?" Sarafine mused.

"Why is it that you sit with the King?" the girl asked bluntly, "You aren't a Baratheon and you aren't queen, I have been wondering."

"I'm betrothed to Prince William," Sarafine responded, unsure of Sansa's angle.

"I'm betrothed to Joffrey and I still remain in the stands," the Northern girl stated.

"I have lived in King's Landing as a member of the royal family since I was six, my lady, that is always how it's been for me," the princess responded, taken aback, though the girl was likely affected by the wine Joff had constantly been pouring her throughout the night, "forgive me, if I have given offence Lady Sansa," she offered courteously.

"You'll be queen, did you bring me here to make that clear?"

"My lady?"

"Prince William is the heir to the throne, Joffrey is not."

"I am aware of the line of succession, my lady. I will be Will's wife. If Queen is the title that comes with that then so be it. I do not wish to offend you, Lady Sansa, but I cannot change my position," Sarafine asserted.

"Do you even care about being Queen?" Sansa started.

"I care enough as I need to, my lady. I think it's time we return to the feast," the princess spoke.

"I beg forgiveness, princess, the wine appears to have gotten to me,"

"Indeed it has," Sarafine quipped as they entered the tent again - ending their short walk.

Sansa returned to her seat as did Sarafine, their princes waiting patiently.

"More wine, my princess?" Will asked her.

"I'm quite alright," she responded, "I think I am ready to retire for the night,"

"Sara, it's not even midnight," he said, seemingly concerned.

"Forgive me, my prince,"

"Did something happen?"

"No, not at all, I feel exhausted is all," she responded, not entirely lying.

The princess did feel her eyelids turning heavy and mind growing weak as each moment passed.

"May I walk you back to the keep then?"

"William! Get over here, I've got a story for you!" the King laughed loudly, drunk from his feasting. William sighed.

"Another night," Sara rose, seeing Princess Myrcella and some handmaidens of hers doing so also, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Rest well, my princess," he stood, holding her hand and kissing it gently.

"And you, my prince."

He released her hand from his, and she left him at the feast.

The princess did not rest well, and did not see her prince on the morrow either. Or for the next four days; missing the rest of the tourney. She woke in the night of a fever after the feast and was seen to by Qyburn - who prescribed bed rest and some kind of essence for her illness.

Her exhaustion prevailed over her each of the days. She tried to be "better", but Cersei would not allow Qyburn to risk the health of the princess. The Queen visited her on the fourth day of her illness, in the evening.

"My little dove, have you eaten yet?"

"Yes, Your Grace, a lovely beef stew."

"And your head, how is it?"

"Better," she paused, coughing, "except for that." Cersei looked to her counsellor in his black robes.

"The cough will pass with time, Your Grace, but the Princess is well enough to return to court,"

"Leave us," she said gently, Qyburn bowing and leaving Sarafine's chambers.

The princess' room was large and open, with views out over Blackwater Bay and its starry nights. The space lead straight onto her balcony; making the room far cooler than the summer heat of the city below the keep. She lay in a four-posted feather bed - large and comfortable and coated in blankets of rich coloured silks.

"I do have a visitor," the Queen began.

"Whom?" she asked, she'd seen no one but her handmaidens, Qyburn and the Queen herself for days.

"William," she called. Sarafine sat up, filled with a nervous feeling. Did she really look well enough for _her_ prince to see her? Likely not.

"I shall see you in the morning, princess," Cersei kissed her forehead, as a mother would, and made for the door - leaving the prince and princess.

"You look well," he smiled at her.

"Oh please," she laughed, "I look a wreck."

"Have you ever known me to be a liar?" he spoke, sitting next to where her legs lay out under the sheets, "I thought to tell you...Clegane won the tourney, unseating Ser Jaime."

"As I predicted,"

"I shall have to keep you well next tourney so you may predict the outcome for me,"

"Because you so desperately depend on gambling to survive," she laughed.

His hand took hers.

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you ill,"

"I think I can handle a cough,"

"I'm serious Will!" she laughed, "You're to be the King, I can't risk your life with a fever!"

William roared with laughter, and she did too. His smile enraptured her; drawing her further into him and her adoration for him every time she saw it, especially when he was laughing. Sarafine knew this life wasn't forever - they would not always be as considerably free of responsibility as they were now. Seven kingdoms would fall on William's shoulders, and hers too. Laughter wouldn't be so common, she was wise enough to know, but wary enough to appreciate the sound.

"You forget that I have two younger brothers," he spoke when the laughter had died down.

"Oh, yes, because Joffrey would make a _wonderful_ king," she continued the sarcasm.

"Is that a statement of treason?" he joked.

"Of course not," she replied, "Joffrey Baratheon would be the greatest King the Realm ever saw, next to you of course if you didn't die of a fever."

Her prince laughed again.

"And of course, you would be his Queen," Will said.

"And what of Sansa Stark?"

"Tommen has not yet been betrothed," he shrugged

"Well, lucky me then, it would seem!" Sarafine laughed.

"Lucky you indeed," he smiled, taking her hand again and squeezing it in his own.

"You didn't have to come here,"

"Of course I did," he defended, playing with her fingers in his hand, the sensation enough to build up _strong_ desire for him in Sarafine.

"I'm fine, Will," she smiled sweetly at her prince.

"I know, but…there's something…"

And there it was. The responsibility. She saw it in him, his smile left his face and he held her hand still in his on the bed.

"What is it, my prince?"

"I shouldn't speak of it here," he looked away.

"Yet you already have."

"There's news…from Essos," he said of their neighbouring nation.

"Essos? What news from Essos could be so…concerning?"

"There's a girl. A _Targaryen_ girl," Will paused, "she's been wed Khal Drogo, leading the Dothraki."

Sarafine froze for a moment. _A Targaryen,_ she thought, _how is there a living Targaryen?_

"Dothraki? That's certainly odd," she attempted to conceal her shock.

"There's a…never mind," he stopped, looking at her face and back to their hands as if they were more interesting than the girl one of them belonged to.

"Will?"

"There's a hundred thousand of them…" he exhaled, "and _she's_ their queen."

She sensed the fear in her prince. He wasn't a King by title, but in that moment - in _her_ eyes, he was as much a King as anyone who'd ever worn a crown and sat a throne. He bore the burden of the Kingdoms. He was a true King. _Her_ King.

"But they are Dothraki, they won't cross…can't cross," she reminded herself.

"They haven't before, that doesn't mean they will never," he sighed.

"A hundred thousand?"

"Mm."

 _Seven hells,_ she cursed in her mind and perhaps out loud also, she didn't remember.

A hundred thousand warriors certainly seemed…threatening. But this was strange in another way - it was war. Her prince was telling her about a matter of war, something he probably shouldn't have, but he had confided in her and she longed to know why.

"Why do you tell me this?"

"I…don't know," he looked at their intertwined hands, "I just needed to tell someone."

"Your father told you?"

"Mm," he said. A short silence followed.

"And is there a plan?"

"Ned Stark says to leave it alone, my father is not so content to sit by and wait but…so far, no. Nothing."

"Are you afraid?"

"No," he began, "I'm terrified."

And this time it was her hand that tightened its grip around his.

"Forgive me, princess, I shouldn't burden you with…this."

 _Your burdens are mine,_ she wished to tell him; instead choosing to hold her tongue - reminding herself of her place.

"I won't tell anyone, I swear it," she offered and he smiled sadly at her, his dark eyes revealing the truth he'd just told her. Sarafine felt her eyes sting with salty tears at the sight.

"Will you be at court tomorrow?"

"Yes, my prince," she said, and the moment was gone.

"Please allow me to escort you, my princess,"

"Of course, Will," she clasped her hand over their hold.

"I'll see you on the morrow then?"

"Aye, you shall," she smiled at him.

"Goodnight, my princess," he kissed her forehead, his lips sitting on her skin for a short while as she fought against the sadness she felt for him.

"And you, my prince," she near whispered as he let go of her hand.

He trailed out of the room, leaving Sara alone with her thoughts and a silent prayer.

"Please Mother, deliver us."


	9. II - Cersei

**_CERSEI II_**

King Robert left for his hunt a few days after the conclusion of Ned Stark's tourney. They rode for the Kingswood: her husband, her brother-by-law Renly, Ser Barristan Selmy and her cousin Lancel. Ned Stark was left to rule the Realm while he was gone.

Small council meetings weren't typically attended by the Queen, or her royal husband for that matter. However, Cersei was well acquainted with the members of Robert's council, often having them complete tasks for her as well. The council consisted of seven men. There was Lord Eddard, the Hand of the King, there at Robert's beck and call to complete even the most extravagant of tasks and currently speaking with the King's voice and authority in the Throne Room to every supplicant that appeared there during her husband's holiday to the Kingswood which he loved so much.

There was the repulsive Grand Maester Pycelle, enlisted to the Red Keep by the Citadel and sworn to serve, though who he was serving was always in question. He was a short and frail man, covered in wrinkles and sporting a hideously unkempt shred of a beard in the shade of white. Pycelle was old and bound to drop dead any given day, though much to Cersei's dismay - he remained alive. In truth, he didn't bother her all that much since she had brought Qyburn into her service some years ago, never having to seek the old lecher's medical advice ever again - though he did try to offer it.

Lord Petyr Baelish served as the Master of Coin, further allowing the Crown to fall into debt by taking out various financial loans to accomodate the King's wishes, though the councillor couldn't really be blamed. If Robert wanted to hold a tourney - he held a tourney. Baelish was interesting, short and cunning. Cersei both admired and remained wary of the man who had been nicknamed Littlefinger after his origins off of the east coast of Westeros. A whoremonger and empire builder, he was a wealthy man himself - and didn't hesitate to prove everyone who underestimated him wrong.

Robert's two younger brothers, Stannis and Renly, also served on the small council. Lord Stannis as the Master of Ships and Lord Renly as the Master of Laws. Cersei didn't see much of the former; who conducted his duty from his seat of Dragonstone alongside his wife and daughter. They were called family, but the Queen barely knew even their faces. Renly remained in King's Landing as Master of Laws, remaining unmarried despite his prime seat of Storm's End, attractive facial features and high position in court. Cersei wondered why, but Robert had told her that Renly was considering proposals as of late, she brushed the issue aside.

Ser Barristan Selmy also served as a member of Robert's council, representing the Kingsguard as their Lord Commander. He had served Robert faithfully his entire reign, and had been a member of Aerys Targaryen's Kingsguard also, alongside her brother Jaime. Barristan was a good man, a kind man, but a _dangerous_ killer. He may have been ageing in the face - but not in skill or stamina. He served her husband well and she hoped the he would serve her son also.

Finally, there was Varys - the bald and plump eunuch who seemed to hold all the secrets of the world. He served as the Master of Whisperers and had served _very_ loyally with his infinite amount of spies keeping her and her husband informed of every little thing that happened in their kingdom - near or far.

He had been very recently informing Robert of events from afar as of late; a Targaryen girl had married a Dothraki Khal with a hundred thousand men at his back. Varys the Spider had informed Robert of the marriage via a rider during their stay at Winterfell. And the danger was imminent - regardless of the Narrow Sea that lay between them - according to her husband, anyway.

Robert's hunt had left Cersei with a sense of boredom, which led her to take a walk with the Spider himself to discuss the whispers from the east.

"My little birds tell me that the great Khal Drogo is preparing his khalasar to travel to Westeros," Varys told her.

"Last I heard, he was uninterested in such a thing,"

"Yes, Your Grace, but the Khal has apparently had a change of heart - since Daenerys was nearly poisoned at a market by a Westerosi,"

Cersei realised, "ah, my husband. Violence is always his answer."

"And it may have been the smartest had the poor wine merchant succeeded in his task, however, he did not. Now the Khal is rather angry," he informed.

Cersei remained silent, processing the news. Her husband must've be furious, maybe that's why he's gone hunting, he often says it "clears his head".

"Your Grace, I do believe it would be wise to prepare the eastern coast soon. The Khal will take his time, but we very well may need it."

"Mm, indeed," she muttered, still in her thoughts.

She returned to her chamber that afternoon.

 _Something's wrong,_ she thought. She felt this same feeling times before, when things had happened to her children, or during the Greyjoy rebellion, or when her mother had passed away - it was instinct.

The Queen called for ink and paper to be brought to her. She wrote quickly and with concision - as she always did when she wrote to him.

 _William is well, as is Sarafine. The princess suffered a brief fever but appears recovered now._

 _Joffrey seems content with his betrothal to Sansa Stark, who has settled at the Red Keep with the rest of the Stark party._

 _Myrcella and Tommen remain well, also. Littlefinger has recommended a betrothal be made for Myrcella soon; he has suggested a certain falcon._

 _Jaime came second in the Hand's Tourney a fortnight past, but rode well. Tyrion remains on the Kingsroad, returning from his visit to the Wall. Robert is hunting in the Kingswood, as of late._

 _More whispers from the east: the dragon has made her move. The Spider suggests provisions be made for the coming months._

 _Stay well at the Rock and visit soon - the children long to see you again._

 _Cersei of House Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms_

Her Grace sealed the letter with her lion sigil in hot red wax.

"Guard,"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Have this delivered to my father at Casterly Rock,"

"Shall I have it sent by raven?"

"No, rider. It is to go _directly_ to Lord Tywin."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"That's all."

The guard bowed and exited her chamber. Her worries did not cease in the slightest, and suddenly she was antsy. Cersei rose from her seat and opened the door to her and Robert's chamber, her Lannister guardsmen following close behind her as she walked with a rush in her step through the halls of the Red Keep.

 _Where are my children,_ she thought, _are they still in the Keep?_

Renly Baratheon appeared in front of her from around the corner she was about to turn.

"Cersei," he panted, looking an absolute mess. She looked to his hands and saw blood. Her eyes shot back to Renly's sad ones, "Robert…a boar," he exhaled.

 _Gods, no._


	10. II - William

**_WILLIAM II_**

William squinted as the afternoon sun reflected off the sandstone paths in the Red Keep's gardens. Sarafine and him strolled arm in arm through the familiar hedges and arrangements, talking all the while. She had finally, much to William's relief, recovered from the fever that struck her. Whether she'd recovered from the news he gave her the other night - he could not tell.

"What flowers would you say are your favourites?" she asked him.

"Winter roses are nice, as are any roses really,"

"You have no idea about flowers at all, do you, my prince?" she raised a brow at him in question

"Not my area of expertise, I'm afraid," he laughed.

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm sure that you're quite knowledgable in the subject," she joked, looking to him and then list all that she could seem to think of, "there's roses, of course, and then marigolds - I love those, lilies, hydrangeas, black-eyed Susan's…you know the ones with the yellow petals around them…"

He watched her as she spoke, her eyes lighting up and her smile wide as she laughed and smiled with him. She was the image of grace and she was his.

"Sarafine," he stopped her, "you're more beautiful than any flower I've ever seen, that's all I know of them."

"Will-" she started.

"Prince William, Princess Sarafine," a guard interrupted, panting.

"Aye, speak," Will permitted.

"It's your father, my prince, he's been injured on his hunt,"

"Where is he?"

"In his chambers, Prince William. Her Grace, the Queen, asked that I bring you to him immediately," the guard began to catch his breath.

 _How bad was the injury that the guard had rushed in such haste?_ He thought, looking to the Princess at his arm.

"Go on, we can walk the gardens another time," she smiled sadly.

"Come with me," he instructed, starting a walk. Sarafine released his arm from hers.

"Will,"

"He's as much your father as mine, Sarafine."

He took her hand and pulled her along gently, rushing ahead of the Lannister guardsman who had come to collect him.

"My father, is he okay?" William asked, an uneasy feeling rising in his throat. The guard hesitated and Will knew.

"My apologies, I do not know, my prince," the guard responded and William's anxiety grew. He dared not show his panic to Sarafine as she walked slightly behind him, though he noted she was clutching her skirts. She always did that when she was nervous, her fingers crunching up the fabric in an anxiety or fear…and now her gown was creased. He looked ahead again, afraid.

She trailed along in silence, but he could sense that she knew what was to come also. She felt the same as the guard and the same as him… _dread._

The walk seemed to be the longest walk Will had ever made. It only really took a few minutes to walk from the courtyards to Maegor's Holdfast, where his and his parent's chambers stood. But when they did arrive, it was nothing that the crown prince could've expected to see.

He pushed the door open quickly, rushing down the three steps at the door and to his father's bedside, all without thinking to do so.

"William, ah, my son," Robert smiled.

The King looked ill as a dog. His face was bright red; like when he laughed too hard or yelled at someone, but he wasn't doing either of those things. Sweat coated his forehead and the hair above it, strands sticking to his face like flies to a horse. His beard was filled with sweat too. The King looked to have aged by a decade.

William gripped his father's hand, which was as soaked with sweat as the blankets which lay over his plump body. He didn't need to see it; he could smell the blood. Where on his father it came from, he could not say, but the stench of death was unmistakeable. The prince felt tears well in his eyes.

"Father," he breathed, "what happened to him?" he asked Qyburn.

"A bloody boar…tusk went right through me," the King sighed.

"A boar…"

"You can taste the bastard soon enough, I returned the favour," Robert laughed heartily as Will could barely muster a smile, "Sarafine, princess, come here."

Will attempted to blink away the emotion in his eyes, but it was no use. Tears were there and tears would stay. She stood next to the bedside, tears in her eyes as well.

"My king,"

"Be good to my son, you hear me?" he said calmly and she nodded, "I know you will, you're just like his mother," the King smiled, looking to his wife who lay next to him with her swollen eyes and sad smile at his sweet words.

"Come here, child," Robert encouraged before sharing an embrace with his dark-haired daughter who was his by all but blood.

"Give us a moment with our son," Robert commanded.

The prince looked back to his princess, Qyburn, Pycelle and Ned. Their faces told the story of what was to come - the King's fate was grim and everybody knew it.

The party exited, leaving Will with his parents. The door shut with a thud of finality; they who left would not return to see Robert Baratheon alive.

"Where's Joffrey? Myrcella, Tommen?" Will asked.

"They have been and gone," Cersei informed him.

The King breathed, his body shuddering lightly, "There's a war coming,"

"Robert," his Queen spoke

"He needs to hear it, Cersei," the King coughed, "there's a war coming, Will."

William wanted to speak but couldn't manage to form words. He looked to his mother. This was it. Seven Kingdoms were to be his...as they always were, however, far sooner than anyone suspected. Cersei looked to her hand which was intertwined with the King's, unable to face Will in his nervousness.

"The Targaryen girl...she's hatched..." he coughed again,

"Let me get Qyburn," Cersei insisted.

"No," he spoke, "this is for our ears only."

"Qyburn has served me for years,"

"And he'll serve you for long enough to find this out but Will has to know first," Robert demanded.

"As you wish," she whispered.

Robert gave his wife a sad look then. Will saw it, whether his mother did or not. The King loved his Queen and death was soon to do them part - neither of them ready. The look was one of longing. Robert was not a godly man, but Will could imagine he was praying for a moment longer with the woman he loved. Cersei may not have been his first - but she was certainly his last, and the only woman he could ever love after setting eyes on her. For a brief moment, Will pictured it was he who lay in the bandages and Sarafine in a pool of tears next to him. He hated it, shaking it out of his head.

"She's hatched three dragons," Robert managed.

 _Dragons?_ Will thought, _they've been extinct for thousands of years._ The closest thing to a dragon anyone living had seen were the skulls in the dungeons beneath the Keep, hidden away by Robert himself after the Sack of King's Landing. Will was never allowed down there. Cersei forbade it - even now, Tommen had never stepped down below their castle where the criminals wasted away in the notorious Black Cells.

Will was ten when he was first braved those dungeons. He'd stumbled upon them accidentally, in truth. He'd always known where the steps lead and always knew of the scolding he'd receive if anyone caught him down there, but he went in anyway. Him and the seven-year-old Joffrey, who held his hand the entire way. Will couldn't remember how he managed to get himself and Joff alone enough to slip through the stairwell without anyone knowing, but he did. The prince's heart pounded against his ribcage hard as they stepped down; he'd never been more anxious in his life.

"I'm scared Will," Joff had whined.

"If you're scared, then go back," Will said, too enraptured with the secrecy and unknown of the Black Cells. Joff had stayed fairly silent after that, closing his eyes most of the way and allowing young William to lead him down the stairs and to the skulls before the cells. Will held the torch to them and Joff turned his eyes away.

"Stop it!" Joff whined.

Will turned to him, "they're just shadows, little brother, nothing more."

"I don't want to look at them,"

"They can't hurt you…they are nothing but bones." Will spoke, reminding himself as much as comforting his younger brother. _Nothing but bones,_ he repeated in his head.

Joffrey looked up then, terror filling his eyes. Will was scared too, but he refused to admit it. Their teeth were like daggers; their shadows flickering and changing direction at every turn will made. For a moment he'd felt they _were_ daggers; knives coming at him from the dark.

William walked forward to touch the skull, his hand shaking. As he did, a clamour of armour was heard from the stairwell which caused him to jump back; dropping the torch lamp and extinguishing the flame. The darkness consumed him and his little brother for a moment.

 _Nothing but bones,_ he reminded himself.

All that the noise had been was a guard coming to retrieve them, but Will had never felt a terror such as that until now.

 _Nothing but bones._

"You're sure of this?" Will asked.

"Aye...Varys' spies have assured us..." the King said

"One of them is working a handmaiden to the girl," Cersei informed.

Robert coughed again and the Queen and Prince both squeezed his hands.

"I'm fine, I'm fine…" he breathed, "Khal Drogo is dead. She hatched some eggs in his pyre…bloody witch," Robert spat, leaving everyone else lost for words.

"And the Dothraki?"

"Their fate is unknown. Some have remained with her, others have not," Cersei said.

"And those that have?" Will asked.

"There's enough of them," Robert groaned.

"Where is she now?"

"Roaming the Red Waste, assumably. It's only a matter of time," the King said.

 _Before what?_ Will thought.

"I'm sorry to leave you like this, Will, this isn't what I wanted," Robert exhaled. A trail of tears stained the prince's face. Cersei let out a small sob when he said that…this was the end.

Seventeen years of marriage, seventeen years of parenting, seventeen years of ruling, seventeen years of love - true love - it was all to disappear in a matter of moments. Will took his mother's other hand, squeezing it firmly.

"I'm not ready to be King," Will admitted, looking at his own lap.

"You…look at me," Robert demanded, "you are more ready than you know, William. You are _my son._ No one is better to sit that throne than you."

"But…the war."

"The war is coming…you'll know what to do. _Play your strengths,_ Will. You might not have dragons, aye, but you've got Seven Kingdoms behind you," his father encouraged.

The prince found himself speechless again, words wouldn't sound from his mouth as he tried to work out which of his father's words would be the last. The King grew wearier with every passing moment; his eyelids heavy and his breath heavier.

"Listen to your council. Take the advice you need…you'll do me proud. I know you will. You're half stag, half lion, _remember that._ War is in your blood, son."

William realised then that he'd only once experienced grief at the death of Jon Arryn. The man was good and kind and kept his father in line…but the prince couldn't manage to shed tears at the news of the once-Hand's death, it didn't hit him so hard as his father's passing was about to. Jon Arryn was replaceable, Ned Stark quickly filling his shoes.

The only person Robert could be replaced by was William himself, and he couldn't grasp how he would do so. He'd always thought that he would grow up, marry and father children all under his father's reign - this wasn't what he'd planned at all, and not what he wanted either.

 _Curse that fucking boar,_ William thought angrily, _curse him for what he's done._

"Look after your family, Will. Your brothers, sister. Keep them safe…I never loved my brothers - don't let that happen to you, Will. Love them, keep them close. Make good matches for them, too. Secure as much of the Realm as you can. And your mother, let her guide you. She's the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms…don't forget that. And your wife…treat her well. Your marriage will hold the Kingdoms together," he smiled at Cersei who smiled back through teary eyes.

"Father as many children as you can…you'll have no problem with that," the King laughed, his Queen and heir smiling. He coughed again, tinging his beard with blood as well as sweat this time. Will breathed deeply, preparing for what was to come.

He felt his mother grip his hand tighter.

"I love you, Cersei. I don't care how we came to be, I love you. The Gods blessed me…and our children…our children will be a testament to the love I bore you," Robert mused, staring into nothing as he placed his head back on the pillow and faced the ceiling.

His mother mustered some words, but William could barely hear them and didn't want to…his father was right, Cersei was the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms - and if she was crying, then what hope was there for the rest of them in the face of grief?

"Show that Targaryen girl what Baratheon's are made of, Will. Remind her what happens when the dragon tries to steal from the stag," his father laughed again.

"I will," the prince whispered.

"Ours is the Fury, William,"

"Ours it is."

The King exhaled again, and his eyes became lifeless. His grip loosened on William's hand and he was gone.

King Robert Baratheon; may the Gods give him rest.


	11. II - Joffrey

**_JOFFREY II_**

The late King's body lay in the Sept, flat and lifeless with stones over his eyes.

Joffrey was never close with his father, and it was no secret. Joff was not the _man_ that William had always been, even as a boy. His older brother was always braver, stronger, funnier, more handsome. Joff wanted to hate him…but sometimes it seemed that Will was all that he had.

The Great Sept of Baelor was filled with people, but empty of any sound. No one said a word as the great Robert Baratheon's second son looked over his father's body wrapped in expensive clothes and his head wrapped in his antlered crown, pointing toward the great statue of the Stranger. Robert held a sword, pointing downwards, though Joffrey thought a war-hammer would've been more fitting - but custom was custom.

It had been three days since King Robert had moved into the next life. Visitors were pouring in from all over the realm to farewell their saviour King, but Joffrey was only here to say goodbye to his father; the man he barely knew.

His cheeks were sunken slightly; not as full as before, same as his stomach. It had deflated a bit. He was plump, to put it nicely. And now, he would waste away until he became nothing but dust and bones. The blonde prince tilted his head.

 _There he lay,_ Joff thought to himself, _my royal father._

"He was a good king," William said from next to him. Joff had barely noticed his brother had approached.

"And now you are King," the prince breathed.

"Now I am King," Will repeated in an exhale of exhaustion.

"I am sorry for your loss, Your Grace," Joff said bitterly. He turned to Will who kept his eyes on the corpse.

"And I am sorry for yours, brother," the new King responded, as genuine as ever.

Joff shouldn't have said that and he knew it; it was cruel. Will was suffering - a lot more than most.

"I barely knew him," Joff admitted.

"That's not true," Will asserted, "he loved you, Joff. He loved all of us. He told me before he died,"

"He told _you,_ " the prince said without thought.

"I didn't ask for this, Joff,"

The prince breathed in and out, guilt prevailing.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," he breathed.

"Please…don't call me that," Will said, seemingly frustrated.

"You're the King,"

"I'm your brother. Nothing has changed,"

"Everything has changed," Joff disagreed.

The King stood in thought for a moment.

"Not us,"

"Not us," their mother repeated, standing between them both. Her arms slipped through theirs, linking the three of them together.

"Mother," Joffrey addressed.

"He lived a wonderful life, your father. Never wasted a moment," she spoke, "my only wish is that he had more of them,"

"Mine too," Will agreed aloud, Joff in his head.

"How are you keeping, my sons?"

"Alright," Joffrey responded.

"Mm, alright," Will said.

She unlinked her arms from theirs, placing her hands on the altar that her husband lay. Her delicate fingers ran along his forearm and up to his hand, clutching at it gently as would a child to a toy. She missed him more than anyone and only had their children to remember him by. Joffrey felt for her, but he didn't know how to show it. William held her as the prince stood back where he felt his place was.

His mother's sobs caused the Sept to empty, they being the only three remaining aside from the High Septon himself. She left soon to comfort Tommen and Myrcella.

"She is strong, our mother," Joffrey began.

"Strongest woman alive," Will said, his eyes following her as she trailed out of the great room.

The Gods stared over them, watching their every move - Joffrey felt great discomfort when he remembered that.

"Your coronation?" he inquired.

"Next week," Will responded.

"How is your princess?"

"I saw her today, not long ago. She is…well...he was her father too,"

"I imagine that you will wed much sooner than you thought,"

"Aye, it would seem that way," he responded, slightly frustrated.

"You don't seem thrilled," Joffrey quipped, rudely to say the least. He strode away from the corpse, cocking his head from side to side with each step.

"Our father lays dead on an altar and you think I should be more excited?" William responded in frustration.

"She's a beautiful girl,"

"You won't speak of her," he snapped. Joffrey turned back to his brother, admittedly stunned.

Will looked away. He was every part the King, now - except for the crown which would nestle upon his head soon.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. Forgive me," he exhaled, leaning over their father's body. Joffrey nodded.

The new King spoke again, "he told me…he told me there's a war coming, Joff. We can't fight a war among ourselves…you're my brother. I need you with me…to help me. I can't do it alone."

"You won't," Joff assured and nodded again, "Your Grace."

Joffrey left the Sept after that, climbing into one of the litters and letting the guards carry him back to the Keep where he returned to his chambers. The prince's were large, as they should be. As at now, he was the heir to the Throne should anything happen to William.

 _There's a war coming,_ he remembered Will's words, _what does he mean by that?_

He sat in the room for hours, it seemed, mulling over the events of the last few days. His father dead and his brother King. It was always going to happen, in truth, that's the way things worked. The King died and his son became the next king - though Will would be the first Baratheon prince-turned-king.

 _What would they call him?_ Joff wondered, _William the Young? William the Strong? William the Handsome?_

He laughed at the last one, it seemed likely enough, even if Joff hated to admit it. The sky had turned dark and the windows of the city bright by the time the knock was sounded on his door.

"Not now," he snapped.

"Forgive me, Prince Joffrey, I have been sent to deliver a message," a guard spoke through the chamber door.

"What is it?" he questioned.

"It's your uncle, my prince, he's returned," the man informed.

"Returned?" Joff asked himself. His Uncle Jaime had been nowhere, "what else?"

"Her Grace the Queen Regent requests your presence in her solar," the guard continued.

The prince rose from his seat and made his way to his mother's solar, curious.

"Have you heard the news?" Joffrey's little brother called through the halls.

"What news?" Joffrey said, impatient.

"It's Uncle Tyrion! He's home from the Wall!" Tommen beamed as he met Joffrey in the hallways.

 _Oh,_ Joff realised, _that uncle._


	12. III - William

**_WILLIAM III_**

The doors to the Throne Room opened with a boom which echoed inside it's high walls, decorated with the banners of each of the rulers in the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands.

To Will's left hung the leaping trout banner of House Tully, Lords of the Riverlands, across from it on the right side of the King hung the banner of House Greyjoy - treasonous as they were against his late father, they were still the Lords of the Iron Islands and a part of the Realm in which William was to rule. Closer to the Throne and next to the Greyjoy banner hung the golden rose of House Tyrell, Lords of Highgarden and the Reach and across from them back on William's left hung the falcon and moon of House Arryn; William had it shift positions with that of House Martell, which lay next to it and closer to the Throne. After all, Jon Arryn was no longer the Hand of the King and the Princess Sarafine Martell was to be his wife and the Queen, in due time. The Stark banner hung across from that and finally; at the front of the room on either side hung the banners of William's two houses.

The crowned stag of the House Baratheon on his left and the golden lion of House Lannister on his right. Or his left - now that he had turned the other way and faced the high lords and ladies which has gathered for the coronation ceremony of their new King.

He gazed over the many faces whose eyes were set on him; their new King.

The first rows of standing people consisted of his family. His mother stood closest; still clothed in a black gown in mourning of Robert; but there were hints of gold embroidery in the fabric also which complemented her flowing gold locks. She looked the best that she had since her husband's death, in Will's eyes, anyway. Her age looked to have increased by a decade in the days following the passing of the King but today she looked to have dialled back the clock - still mourning, but fresh in the face. This was her son's day, the moment his whole life had lead to. And while the circumstances weren't as planned - she couldn't be prouder of her first born prince.

Next to her stood Sarafine, who was similarly clothed and equally as beautiful, though Will would admit that he considered his betrothed twice as beautiful as any woman who had ever walked the earth. Her hair nearly blended with the dark shades of her gown and her brown eyes shone bright as she laid them upon her new King and husband-to-be.

Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella stood next along from Sara, all dressed wonderfully for the occasion. Though his eldest brother did wear a slight frown at being stood close to their Uncle Tyrion; the only person aside from Robert who had told Joff when enough was enough. Tyrion had been commissioned by Lord Tywin to serve as William's acting Hand of the King whilst he made his travels from Casterly Rock to the capital. Will hoped that his youngest siblings were keeping the two far enough apart to avoid conflict.

Sansa Stark stood prominently toward the front also, the only member of her house remaining in King's Landing since Robert's funeral. She was placed among her handmaidens and Will's small council.

All of them were dressed in their finest gowns and cloaks - but it wasn't about them. Today was Will's day. His first day of kingship and his last day of childhood. Everything would change once the crown rested upon his head and he knew it well.

The Throne Room that was to be his was silent as the grave when he entered, the High Septon the only one to speak. Will looked to Cersei, the Queen Regent and stand-in Protector of the Realm until he came of age, who smiled at him reassuringly.

"In the light of the Seven, I now pronounce William of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name, _King_ of The Andals, The First Men and The Rhoynar and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" the crowd chanted back.

The crown, designed by him and Joffrey, was placed around his thick brown curls. It was golden, like his father's, featuring the stag and lion of his parents houses. The crown had protruding elements; some like antlers, some like the snout of the Lannister Lion. A crown for a king. And it was his until his death.

He looked over his people again; _his_ people. They were all his subjects; high lords and ladies, knights and commoners alike - he was responsible for them all.

The High Septon stepped aside and allowed Will to do what everyone had been waiting for. He bent his knees, lowered his back and nestled his body into the chair which his father had sat for seventeen years; and many kings before him.

The Iron Throne. And now it belonged to William himself - _King_ William. He ran his left hand over the hilt of a sword from the chair. This was his moment, and the time of trial had officially begun.

People came one by one to congratulate Will, offer their condolences for his father and bless his reign. He sat through every one of the greetings with patience, testing himself every moment. All he wanted was to see his family and his princess. To be with them and grow with them and rule with them; rule with _her_.

She came forward and he rose from his throne.

"Seven blessings, Your Grace," she curtseyed. He noted the creases on her skirts…undoubtedly from the nervous clutching with her fingers.

"Approach," he asked, kissing her soft hand when she did.

"You need not rise for me, Your Gr-," she began and he smiled.

"I may be King, but I'm still Will. There's no need for formalities,"

"I know," she smiled, "but King William does sound like quite the admirable title…congratulations, Will," she smiled softly.

"Are you well, my princess?"

"Aye, are you?" she asked, almost a whisper. He breathed deeply, choosing his words carefully in such company.

"It's all a bit surreal, in truth," he said, looking around the Throne Room that was now his.

"I imagine it would be," she followed his gaze, stopping at the banner of her house and smiling widely at its new position.

"More surreality to come, I believe," the King reminded himself, and his Queen-to-be.

"Indeed," she smiled, "you best get back to your greetings. I shall see you at the feast, aye?"

"You shall, princess," he nodded as did she.

"Your Grace," she nodded and walked back down the steps and into the crowds, his eyes following her dark robes and hair all the while.

 _If only she stayed longer,_ he wished. But responsibility was responsibility and this was his. Another one of these followed; with his convening of the small council at the behest of Lord Varys and his mother.

Ser Barristan and Ser Jamie followed him there, along with Ser Bronn who remained loyal to him without being named to the Kingsguard. They left the Throne Room, Will's crown remaining on his head all the while - this was duty, not leisure. The walk to the small council chamber was not far but the feeling of dread for what would occur inside the small room made it seem longer than walking from one end of the city to the other.

He entered to see his small council, as his father's had been but with some new additions. The long table was filled; Joffrey sat at the right end and Cersei next to him on the corner, with Qyburn next to her, Varys next to him and Littlefinger after that. Tyrion sat in the center and Renly and Stannis next to him, with Pycelle on the left end of the table, Will sat in between Bronn and Jaime, Barristan on Bronn's left, refusing to sit too close to Pycelle - as any sane man would.

"Your Grace," Varys began, "whispers,"

"Aye, the Targaryen girl, tell me,"

"Not from the East, my King, from the Crossing,"

"What could be happening in the Crossing?"

"Alliances, Your Grace," Stannis interrupted, growing frustrated with Varys' inability to tell it to Will straight without cryptic messages.

"Uncle Stannis," Will addressed.

"Our friends the Freys have declared war on House Tully,"

 _War?_ Will processed, _in the Riverlands?_

"What for?"

"In the name of Daenerys Targaryen, Your Grace. The Greyjoys have followed their lead; as have the Bolton's who have declared against the Starks."

William was baffled. He'd always been more of a listener than talker when it came to matters of politics - but here sat _his_ council waiting for _his_ orders. He thought for a moment. The North, Riverlands and gods know where else were now quarrelling - in _his_ realm.

"The Stark's have returned home, yes?" he thought to ask, they were the principal house in the North.

"Via ship after my brother's funeral," Lord Renly reminded Will.

"And they're safe in Winterfell, aye?"

"As far as we know. The Greyjoys aren't bold enough to attack the Stark forces," Pycelle started.

"Greyjoys are bold as any House," Barristan argued, "if not bold, what of their rebellion nine years ago?"

"Treasonous," Pycelle muttered.

"Treason can be as bold as it is foolish," Bronn quipped and Pycelle was silenced.

"Who have the Greyjoys declared against?" Will asked.

"The Crown, it would seem," Littlefinger spoke, "it appears to be another one of their attempts to be independent - however, in someone else's name. It does seem strange,"

"Strange or not, the Targaryen has her allies," Varys mused aloud.

His first official day of his reign and someone had waged war against him. He hoped it would not be a telling sign of his future on the throne.

"Do we know who the Greyjoys are planning to strike against, at least?"

"A considerable amount of the Iron Fleet had been spotted sailing east, possibly to meet the girl herself," Varys started, "but another small fleet has left Pyke. It's destination remains unknown…my little birds are working on it,"

He stood from his seat in frustration, leaning his fists on his table.

"It's imperative that we uncover their destination before they reach it," he began, walking around the small council chamber in thought, all eyes following his trail, "she could have more allies somewhere else, they could be going to join forces. Whatever their purpose and wherever they're travelling - find out. Lord Stannis, what do you recommend for the fleet heading east?" he finished.

 _That was kingly enough, wasn't it?_ he thought. Stannis remained quiet for a moment, considering their options in his head. Will looked to his uncle who ended the silence with a loud exhale.

"The Iron Fleet is one of the fastest in the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace. We can't catch them on their way to wherever they're going...but we can prepare for their return. We'll commission ships of each loyal house to wait off the east coast,"

"And if their force is too big?" Renly asked.

"Too big a force kills the element of surprise, which appears to be what they're going for. If our armies are met with a small force...they can extract information, prepare the land armies and their castles for siege," his master of ships recommended.

"Uncle Tyrion," Will began, "see to it that these preparations are made. Grand Maester, send ravens to those on the eastern coast with my uncle's instructions immediately," the King instructed, "what of the Freys? What moves have they made?"

"None yet, but Lord Walder will not sit still for long. His men will lay siege to Riverrun soon enough," Varys said ever so morbidly.

"We're cut off from the North now, with the Lord of the Crossing officially an enemy of the Crown," Renly informed.

"And the Bolton's?" Will breathed.

"Guerilla tactics mostly. We'll wait to hear from Lord Eddard of any developments in their rebellion," Stannis continued.

"Mother," he turned to his silent Queen Regent, "how fares Casterly Rock?"

"Provisions are high, Lord Tywin is calling the banners last I heard,"

"Good," Will said, satisfied, "we will need him soon enough, I imagine."

The room remained silent for a short period of time after that. Will was thinking to himself and it appeared that they were all waiting for him to speak…but he didn't know what more to say. His brother spoke.

"How has this Targaryen managed to gain allies while roaming the Red Waste?"

"We believe she's made it out of there alive, Prince Joffrey. As to where she is residing currently - we do not know. But my birds are working," the Spider said, dismally. William looked to Joffrey, nodding in thanks. Joffrey returned the gesture and continued his line of question.

"And your birds, do we have them in the enemy houses?"

"With the Greyjoys, yes. But the Iron Islanders are a stern people and don't often give up battle plans so easily. I am making arrangements for birds in the Dreadfort and the Crossing. We shall have more information once they are settled,"

Will thought for a moment and watched Joff do the same.

"Is there anyone representing the Crown in the North?"

"How do you mean, Your Grace?" Renly questioned.

"I mean…someone to stand for the Crown during the War in the North. Someone needs to keep the Northerners assured that they are not alone and that they have our support."

"It is a good idea, Your Grace," his Hand spoke, "solidarity, _I like it…_ it's what the Realm needs more of, it would seem," Lord Tyrion poured himself a goblet of wine from the table, "who do you suggest?"

Will thought…the choice rather obvious in truth. A Kingsguard would be a fine choice and the Realm would think him both bold and kind for the white cloak in the North - fighting for the unity of the Kingdoms - especially one who shared a name and blood with the King himself.

"Ser Jaime," Will announced, looking down to his Uncle who stood in the gold plate of his honourable order and faced his new King.

"Your Grace, I would happily do you the honour," he nodded.

"Very well," Will raised his voice, "Uncle Jaime, you will sail on the Eastern Coast, dock at White Harbour and travel to Winterfell by horse,"

"When shall I leave?" Jaime seemed satisfied, to Will's relief.

"Tomorrow. Uncle Tyrion will make the arrangements,"

"Aye, I will," the younger of his uncles joined in.

"If I may be excused, Your Grace, it seems I must go and prepare for my voyage," Jaime requested and Will nodded.

"Dine with me tonight, Uncle, I should like to speak to you before you go," the King requested in response.

"As you wish," the Kingsguard smiled and exited the chamber.

"Council is dismissed," Will finished.


	13. III - Cersei

**_CERSEI III_**

The Queen Regent had been in her chambers with Princess Myrcella when they brought her the news.

"Your Grace, forgive me, His Grace King William has called a meeting of the small council,"

"On what matter?"

"Word from Casterly Rock, Your Grace,"

"What word?"

"Forgive me, I do not know," Lancel Lannister stumbled nervously over his words. Cersei turned to her daughter, faced with worry in her child's eyes.

"I'll return soon, my sweet," she kissed her forehead and left the room, Lancel trailing awkwardly behind her.

War had well and truly begun now.

"Where is Joffrey?"

"He is already with the King, Your Grace," Lancel responded.

The council chambers were small and packed with every member, her two eldest sons and the Kingsguard sans Jaime. Cersei rushed in, still with all the elegance of the Queen she was. Everyone rose from their seats, greeting her with a 'your grace' as she stood at her crowned son's side.

"William," she wrapped her arm around his.

"Mother," he returned her gesture with a light hug. She saw the stress in him; the burdens. He looked older than he did mere weeks ago. Not old and aged, but more mature than before the crown rested around his skull. He was a man now; and he truly looked the part.

"What news from the Rock?" she begged and he breathed deeply.

"Sit," he asked and she did, "Pycelle, give Lord Tyrion the scroll,"

"Yes, Your Grace," the old man shook as he passed the worn piece of paper over to the Hand of the King. Cersei looked for Qyburn as she sat.

 _Where is he?_ she wondered, failing to see him in the room.

" _A small fleet of kraken have arrived in our waters, laying siege to the Rock. Provisions are strong, but the lion's arrival will be delayed,_ " her little brother read aloud. Cersei shut her eyes for a moment.

 _How dare they,_ she thought in fury, _how dare the Greyjoys attack my home? My father's home?_

"Bloody Greyjoys," she muttered, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room - her eldest son included.

"Indeed," William chuckled slightly, "provisions are high at the Rock, but this is a setback,"

"It's more than a setback," Joffrey muttered, not incorrect.

"Thank you, brother," Will sneered, "Lord Tywin's armies will keep a hold on the Rock but that leaves us with only the City Watch and the guards of our houses who are already here,"

"Are you preparing us for an attack?" Joffrey asked, accusingly. _Damn his mouth, why could he not just be silent for a moment?_

"Of course I am! We don't know where she is, or what her plans are. She's made alliances all over the Seven Kingdoms, right under our noses. She could be on our shores in days for all we know. An attack is _all_ that we can prepare for," the King asserted.

Cersei wanted to smile at him, her brave and strong son. He was so alike his father. But she couldn't bring herself to smile - her father and her home were under siege from the Greyjoys - the lowest of all the great houses. She hoped that the mighty Tywin Lannister would drown them out soon. Twenty-thousand men were sworn to Casterly Rock - and twenty-thousand men would defend it.

The meeting ended soon, with arrangements for half of the men sworn to Storm's End and some two-thousand sworn to Dragonstone to make for the Capital in preparation for siege or battle - either were imminent. Whatever the circumstance, Cersei Lannister planned on seeing her father again. She wished that she could see her beloved Robert again too, but that was for the next life.

One by one, the council members left, the Queen Regent and Hand of the King the only two remaining in the room.

"Another war, sister,"

"Aye…another war," she mused, pouring herself a glass of wine and leaning back in her chair.

"He makes a good King, your son…so far, anyway,"

"He does...just like his father,"

"He's got your blood too, Cersei," Tyrion reminded her. The Queen breathed deeply.

"Are you enjoying your position?"

"Enjoying my position…how can I?"

"You're the Hand of the King,"

"We're at war, sister, it's not an enjoyable position when someone wants you dead."

"Someone always wants you dead, power or not...if you look at someone the wrong way, they want you dead. If you have more money than someone, they want you dead. A man fucks a whore instead of his wife and _someone wants him dead_ \- either his wife or her father that sold her to him. Such dishonour…no matter what you do or who you are, someone will always want to see your head detached from your neck. Best enjoy what they hate about you whilst you can," she offered, sipping the red from her glass.

Her brother laughed at that, a bittersweet laugh - full of agreement to what she said.

"Have we received word from Jaime?" Tyrion asked.

"Not yet, he should be docking at White Harbour any day now, if he's not already there,"

"I'll say this for Daenerys Targaryen…she's bold. Young and inexperienced, maybe; but bold at that. Can't say I'm thrilled about it," her brother spoke.

"But here we are," Cersei mused.

"Here we are,"

"If only we knew where _she_ was…her dragons and her _bloody_ savages," the Queen spat.

"The best we can do is secure the Realm,"

"Secure the Realm? We don't even know what we're securing the Realm _from_!" she burst out.

Tyrion leant forward and filled his glass again.

"Three dragons, for one," he muttered, "the unknown aside…it may be a good idea to look at arranging a match for the Princess Myrcella,"

" _No,_ " she boomed immediately, her eyes shutting once again.

Cersei knew it was coming, but she wasn't prepared for it yet. She'd just lost her husband - she wasn't ready to lose one of her children as well. She turned away from her brother - too afraid of what he might say next.

"Cersei,"

"She's my little girl," the Queen said, barely above a whisper as tears filled her eyes.

"She's a princess,"

"She's a child, Tyrion! A child, _my_ child," she shouted.

 _Not Myrcella, no, no!_ she screamed angrily in her mind, _not my baby girl._ A tear escaped and travelled down her cheek.

"Sister," her brother looked to her tears, "this is what she was meant for,"

"Does William know of this?" she asked, wiping the wetness from her face. Tyrion paused then, hesitating.

"He asked me to discuss it with you," he admitted. _Gods._

"And it has been discussed. Myrcella stays _here_ , by my side," she finished.

In truth, she couldn't blame Will. She wanted to be angry and make sure no one would take Myrcella away before due time, but she couldn't be angry. Will was trying to do what was best for the Realm, and he was right. But she couldn't let him send the child away.

Tyrion rose from his seat, beginning to farewell his sister, "Your Gr-"

"Your Grace, Lord Tyrion," Qyburn interrupted. The Queen Regent stood and observed his look of panic and a raven's scroll in his hand.

"What news?"

"It's Ser Jaime…he's been captured."


	14. III - Sarafine

**SARAFINE III**

Chatter and music filled the Great Hall of the Red Keep in celebration of Prince Joffrey's nameday. The prince was now fifteen and celebrating as if he were the King himself.

Sat at the high table were the royal party as per usual, King William and Prince Joffrey in the centre with their respective betrothed next to them on either side. The Queen Regent sat next to Princess Sarafine. Myrcella and Tommen remained seated with the handmaidens and Septa at a table below them.

Sarafine was worried about her William. In the weeks since his coronation they had barely seen each other. She heard the whispers of war and knew that her love was weighed down by the heaviness of the news. War councils took up most of his days and it was beginning to show in his face. He wasn't sad, just…exhausted. She missed him.

The last time they'd spoken was at a dinner a week past, but since his Uncle's capture, she'd seen so little of her King she worried he'd cast her aside. She tried to keep occupied in prayer and socialising, but he was all she could think of.

"Are you well, my King?"

"As well as one can be, princess," he leant back in his chair and sipped his wine.

"Is there any news of Ser Jaime?"

Will breathed deeply at that, "my uncle remains in the Dreadfort dungeons, last I heard," he exhaled, "we're doing everything we can but…it's dangerous,"

"I worry for you, Will," she reached for his arm.

"Don't burden yourself," he said, hardly looking at her. She lay her hand on his forearm.

"I don't have a choice,"

"You do," he objected, raising his arm from her touch to sip on his wine.

"Then it appears that I chose you, was I mistaken?" she snapped, forgetting who she was talking to, "I'm sorry, Will. I didn't mean that,"

"Don't be sorry…" he sighed, "I've not been good to you Sarafine. I should be sorry, if anyone,"

Sadness tinged his voice and she felt more guilty than any. He shouldn't have this on his shoulders now, but he did and he was trying so hard that he forgot to sit back and just be.

"You're the King," she whispered.

"I'm still _yours_ ," he said, taking her hand, "forgive me, please,"

"There is nothing to forg-" she began, interrupted by a shriek from the second Baratheon.

"Get that beast out of here!" Joffrey shouted, standing abruptly. William kept Sarafine's hand in his.

"My prince, Lady is no beast, she is my pet," Sansa tried to explain as the wolf strolled around the Hall.

"Did you mishear me?" the

"No, my lor-" she shook nervously.

"I am a prince!" he shouted, "you are _not_ a princess, not until you wed me! Until then, you are _nothing_ but a northern peasant! You and your wolf,"

Sarafine looked to the poor Lady Sansa; tears filled the young girls' eyes as her charming prince shouted at her, clearly more drunk than suitable for the occasion. The direwolf growled, sidling up to the high table.

"Down, Lady," she whispered shakily. William stood, releasing the hand of the princess.

"Brother," he gripped the prince's shoulder.

"What?" Joffrey turned and spat.

"Apologise to Lady Sansa," the King instructed, quiet enough for only the table to hear over the silence that filled the hall.

Joffrey turned away from his brother and took a seat again, leaving William alone in stance.

"The feast is over," William announced.

"It is not, more wine!" Joffrey commanded.

Cersei gripped Sarafine's hand gently, concerned as to what would follow. Joffrey could get angry, but so could William - and _he_ wore the crown.

" _You_ have had more than enough," the King spoke, plucking the cup from his brother's place.

"It's _my_ name day and _my_ feast," the prince whined, leaning back in his chair and looking over the eyes which stared at him, eventually returning his eyes to Will's.

"If it's in my halls, it's not your feast," Will spoke sternly.

Sarafine wished to grip his hand again but refrained. They were not one yet, this was not her place to intervene.

"Come, my child," Cersei rose and pulled the princess to her feet with her, "Lady Sansa," she beckoned and the girl got up, all the courage of a mouse. The Queen Regent gestured for her and soon took her hand, "it's high time we retire for the evening,"

The princess looked to her King before following his mother down from the High Table. William's eyes followed her trail and she sensed it.

"The feast is not over," Joffrey muttered from his seat.

"I am your King, brother. _It's over,_ " Will finished and the guests got up in a hurry, bowing and making way for the exit.

Lannister guardsmen followed the party of three as they made way for the Keep in silence. Sansa let out a sniffle from Cersei's right while Sarafine kept her eyes ahead of them. She figured that Joffrey would regret the outburst by morning, if his pride didn't get in the way. However, Lady Sansa may not forgive him regardless. He was cruel to her and he was cruel in front of _everyone_.

 _Is he ever kind to her at all?_ Sarafine wondered.

"Was William well?" the Queen Regent broke the silence.

"He's tired," Sara responded before reminding herself of their company, "but yes, he is as well as could be expected,"

"Good," Cersei continued, "he'll be needing you soon."

Sarafine took breakfast by herself in chambers the next morning, exhausted after the drama that the feast entailed. As much as she wished for William's contentment, she wished for Lady Sansa's. Seeing the girls porcelain face almost crack with tears hurt Sarafine. If Will had spoken to herself in such a way, she would've burst into a flood of weeps before he finished the insult. _How must poor Sansa feel_ , Sara worried, _a foreign girl alone in a foreign place?_ Truly, the princess was once the same, but the Baratheons and Lannisters had become her family too; she knew them better than her own blood - and held her affections as such.

The princess found herself at the young Lady Sansa's door in the evening, requesting that they dine together.

 _She may not be family yet_ , Sara decided, _but she should be a friend._

"Princess Sarafine, please, come in," the girl said.

"My lady," she entered the chambers, "have you eaten yet?"

"No, I am to dine alone this evening," she said, sadly.

"As was I, may I join you?" Sara said with a smile.

"Of course, princess, sit, please,"

"Is the direwolf here?" the princess asked as she did.

"Yes, I can have her taken to the kennels, if it please-"

"There's no need, may I see her?"

Sansa called the wolf out of a corner in which it rested. The animal slinked out into the light, fascinating Sarafine. She'd never seen a direwolf. At Winterfell, the Stark children's pets looked like any other puppy but now - the wolf was the size of half a horse. A _big_ horse. It's fur was mostly white, occasional spaces of grey and brown appearing on its back and snout. Deep brown eyes that mirrored Sara's own stared into her.

"You may pet her if you want," Sansa brought it to the lap of the princess. The wolf sat, its breath audible in the otherwise silent room. Sarafine's reached for the head of the wolf, her fingers running gently through the deep, silky fur.

"She is beautiful," the princess breathed as the wolf became comfortable with her touch.

"Prince Joffrey doesn't think so," Sansa said, standing, "I'm sorry, forgive me, Princess. I shouldn't have said that,"

"You may speak truth to me, Lady Sansa, I understand what the prince can be like," Sarafine offered, "I've known Joffrey since he was four years of age," she continued stroking the head of the animal, "he's never been easy."

Servers brought in food and Lady returned to her bed in a corner by Sansa's. The meal looked exquisite; a roast chicken baked in lemons and sage. The princess felt her mouth water at the sight. The servers left and the girls were alone again.

"Do you think he likes me? At all?" Sansa asked, nervously almost.

Sarafine breathed, choosing her words carefully. She could not speak for the prince, but she could offer an opinion.

"I think so, my lady, he finds you pretty - I know that much. But you must remember…Joff has never had a lady of his own. William always had me, Joff is rather…new to the idea of romance. Give him time,"

"But the feast…last night,"

"Last night was nothing more than the wine, sweet girl. Put it out your mind as best you can,"

"He called me a peasant,"

"Joffrey can be cruel, no doubt about it, my lady. But you must try to forgive him, at least, whether he requests it or not. He will have his outbursts…but he will learn to love in time, I believe,"

"Sometimes…I fear he loves you more than he'll ever love me...it's so stupid," Sansa admitted.

"Lady Sansa,"

"You're so beautiful,"

"As are you, my lady! Just look at your hair and your eyes. You are without a doubt one of the most beautiful in the Seven Kingdoms," Sarafine complimented, not a shred of a lie in any word she spoke. Sansa was a beauty, even for one so young. She would blossom, Sarafine saw it, "besides, princes like Joffrey _only_ get matched with the most beautiful girls, just look at the Queen! She is more beautiful than any,"

"She is," Sansa smiled, "I-"

The door was opened by a guard.

"Princess, my lady, the King is here to see you,"

"Send him in," Sarafine spoke, standing to meet her love. _What did he want here?_

"Your Grace," the girls greeted as he entered.

Sara looked at him a moment and suddenly he looked more fine than she'd ever seen him. His dark curls were free from the crowns constraints, tousled by his cheeks and deepening his eyes. He greeted the both of them.

"What brings you here, my King?" she asked, curious.

"Princess, I came to ask a walk with you," he started, "but if you are busy,"

"We're just finishing, Your Grace," Sansa said, smiling to the princess.

"May I escort you, then?" Will held his arm.

"You may," she smiled at her King, "goodnight Lady Sansa, I shall see you on the morrow,"

"Goodnight princess, Your Grace," the girl farewelled with a nod.

Sarafine allowed him to lead her out of the room and into the hallways of Maegor's Holdfast.

"Are you well, my princess?" he asked her as she rested her hand on his bicep.

"I am," she smiled, "and you, my king?"

"Well," he said genuinely, "I am well,"

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this walk?"

"Can't a King take a walk with his princess?" he smiled.

"A King is busy with many appointments,"

"And his Queen-to-be is more important than any of them,"

Will always had a way with words. She envied his gift sometimes; he always knew what to say to draw her in further, not that he need try - she adored him just as he was.

"Where are we headed, my King?"

"I want to show you something," is all that he answered, "you'll see,"

"Shall I close my eyes?"

"No, princess," he began, " _not yet_ ,"

They continued through the halls of the Red Keep, arm in arm like King and Queen yet talking with all the excitement of children on their namedays. Guards followed behind them while they did; crossing the drawbridge and stepping into the lower courtyard.

"Tell me, Will, what's it like?"

"What is what like?"

"Ruling… _being a King_ ,"

"In truth…I don't feel any different. It is different, I know. Very. But I don't feel different,"

"Good,"

"Good?"

"It would be a great shame to see you change because a crown sits atop your head, if I may be so bold,"

"Of course you may," he laughed, "thank you, my princess,"

"Has the Prince recovered from his…celebrations?" she asked, remembering the event that ended their time together a night prior.

"Indeed, his pride however…I can't be sure of that," he jested.

Their laughing together was a welcome sound to the ears of the princess, after all that had occurred since the Hand's Tourney…everything had become so serious, as was expected. Nevertheless, hearing William's laugh was a sound as sweet as honey.

 _If only it could be like this all the time,_ she sighed internally.

"It's nice to see you smile," she commented, watching him as he watched his feet move along the ground. The princess looked up and they were at the gates to the City.

"I'll need you to close your eyes now," he took her hands.

"Are you sure this is safe? Are we even allowed out here?"

"We're allowed _anything_ , my love," he reminded her.

Her heart fluttered at her new title, _my love_. She willed him to say it again but thought best to not mention it, though the words rolling off his tongue in her direction meant more than they would from anyone else; she knew it. Will was no different from any other man, and she hoped he would stay that way. His sense of adventure remained, and suddenly Sarafine couldn't close her eyes quick enough.

 _Take me away, my king_ , she whispered in her mind, _wherever you wish to go_.

His left arm held her hip and his right hand directed hers forward. He walked her all the way to where they were going, though she couldn't tell their destination if she tried. He guided her as if it were a dance; carefully, gracefully and gently. His touch burned through her dress and all she wished was that the Kingsguard accompanying them would disappear into the night so she could be alone with her King.

They travelled along a path somewhere, and then up some stairs. The princess heard the ocean and its soft rush and her butterflies had returned once more as he released her arm and moved his right one to her right hip, gripping her softly in between his hands and placing his head next to hers.

"Open your eyes, my love," he whispered into her ear.

And there it was, the Blackwater in all its glory. The water was as deep as the night which laid over them, reflecting each star in the sky and house on the hill. She'd grown up looking at this ocean; but had never seen it from here. The Iron Gate held the best view of the Bay in the city and in her eleven years of living there - she'd never stepped foot on its battlements, until now. She didn't need him to tell her, she knew just where they were. And it was the only place she wanted to be.

"Will," she breathed, her hands falling over his and holding them close.

"Is it all you had hoped, princess?"

"That and more," she turned to face the King who had gifted her with the moment.

"In truth, my love, I didn't just bring you here to walk. I wanted to apologise,"

"My love,"

"I have neglected you, Sarafine," he whispered, "I have failed to put you first, and I won't do it again…so I must ask you something,"

"Will,"

"I've never thought to ask you before, until last night. But you deserve to be asked, you deserve a real _choice_ , my love," he spoke, placing his hand on her cheek.

She didn't know what was to come, but when it did, she realised that she should've seen it coming all along. After all, it's what she was here for.

"So I ask you now, Princess Sarafine Martell, will you do me the honour of choosing to be my Queen? Forever and always?"

"I decided long ago, my love, forever and always, _I am yours_ ," she confessed.

And for the first time since the day she met him in Sunspear; King William's lips pressed to hers with all the gentleness in the world, as if the gods had fitted them together. His hands drew her waist closer and she allowed hers to fall on his neck.

 _Forever and always,_ she repeated in her mind, _I am yours_.


	15. IV - William

**_WILLIAM IV_**

War had filled William's kingdoms for near two months now. Two months of conflict, killing, cruelty and all those horrible things that war entailed. His uncle was missing to the Bolton's; the Kingsguard's fate as unsure as anyone else's. He hadn't risked sending another representative - leaving the North cut off from the Crown.

Walder Frey had laid siege to Riverrun, a small force but powerful nonetheless, and the Greyjoy's maintained their siege on Casterly Rock; occupying Lord Tywin when Will needed his grandfather most.

But as the King stared out into the distance that was Blackwater Bay from his solar in Maegor's Holdfast, it was almost easy to forget there was war at all. People fought, politics continued and war ravaged; but nature maintained its steady course - waves crashing lightly on the shore and flowing back to where they came from in and endless cycle. It seemed that was the only sure thing in the world now. No matter what the game of thrones threw at them, waves would touch the sand and fade back into the sea as if nothing had changed.

The only other sure thing was his love for his family and his betrothed. Her face when she saw the Bay from the Iron Gate the night before would be burnt into his mind forever; etched into his memory like a carving on stone. It was more beautiful than the very thing she was looking at and he was glad to have been the one to show it to her.

The King turned away from the Blackwater, making way for his door.

"Bronn,"

"Aye, Your Grace,"

"Find my Uncle Tyrion and have him convene the small council," he requested, his sworn sword nodding and setting off down the halls for the Tower of the Hand.

Lord Stannis had returned to Dragonstone to prepare the Eastern Coast for invasion, which seemed a horrible thought to Will, but realistic considering their circumstance. He had appreciated Stannis' contributions to the Small Council meetings. His uncle was a wonderful commander; strong in battle and wise in strategy. Will needed him here; but Dragonstone needed him more.

The King entered the small council chamber to find his remaining members still there; Varys was holding scrolls - which typically never meant any good. Will swallowed, closing his eyes.

For a moment, the King, was back on the battlements with Sarafine, holding her face in his hands and his lips against hers, feeling her hands on his neck and her body so close to his.

"Your Grace," they spoke, releasing the King from his thought and plunging him back into reality. Will opened his eyes to see them all standing and bowing to greet him.

"Be seated," he said, walking around the room. Will didn't like sitting in his small council meetings, he felt restless - frustrated even - just like his father would've. He couldn't sit still while they told him bad news time and time again. So instead, he walked. Pacing back and forth around the table which his advisors sat brought him some form of calm in the chaos.

"Do we have word on the whereabouts of Daenerys Targaryen?" he asked the Spider.

"Aye, Your Grace, the girl and her remaining…hoard have reached the city of Qarth,"

"Qarth?"

"They call it the _greatest city that ever was,_ and the space outside its walls are called the Garden of Bones. Quite a contrast," Varys mused.

 _Qarth? Where in Seven Hells is Qarth?_ William thought, he'd never heard of the city before. His father had never mentioned it, though it sounded so foreign that he doubted Robert had ever heard of it either.

"Is the threat imminent?" he said, quietly.

"Threat is _always_ imminent," Joffrey responded.

"Aye, Your Grace, my birds tell me she will not sit still for long," Varys answered.

 _Damn the Targaryen, damn her!_ The King raged in his mind, _why now? Why not in years when things are settled and I am ready?_

"Well then _damnit_ , what can we do?" he shouted, "she's got allies all over the realm: Freys, Greyjoys, Boltons and whoever else. We are as good as blind if we don't get information on the other enemy houses and her movements until after she makes them. What good is that to us?" he said.

Will breathed heavily, he truly was his father's son; filled with fury toward the enemy and anyone that gets in the way of what's right. Robert didn't live as King anymore, but he undoubtedly lived in his heir. _Ours is the fury,_ Will remembered.

"Out, all of you," his mother rose, "I want a moment with my son,"

"Cersei," Tyrion began, cut off quickly by his sister.

"I said _out,_ " she demanded and William did not stop her. She wasn't to be defied, and knew the most out of anyone about comforting a King in times of hardship.

He looked to her for a moment, her eyes burning into him with a mother's love and concern. She didn't take her eyes off him. The council rose, all mumbling a _Your Grace_ as they left. The Queen Regent sauntered to where he stood.

"My son," she whispered, placing a hand on his cheek, "my darling son…you truly are like him,"

"I don't know how to lead them," Will admitted.

"You already _are_ , William,"

"How?" he asked, frustratedly, walking away from her, "I let them…let them tell me their ideas and then tell someone else to make it happen…I'm an enabler, _not_ a leader,"

She looked at him from across the table, both of them still standing.

"You are more a leader than anyone…sometimes that's what leading is," she stepped around the long table to meet him at the other side.

"It doesn't feel like it,"

"Do you think your father felt like a leader when he sat the Throne?" she asked, forcing his eyes into hers, "he didn't. He wasn't. He was a victor, not a ruler. Robert wasn't born to be a leader. He wasn't _born_ to sit the Throne, he learnt it. You are a born leader William, you're just learning,"

"And what if the Targaryen lands on our shores? What am I then? A learner?"

"You're a _warrior_ , just like he was," she said, with all the sureness in the world.

"You don't know that,"

"I know it more than anyone. We raised you a warrior, Will. It's in your nature,"

"I've never been in a battle, never seen a battle," he laughed, angry at everyone's expectations. Why him? Why was he cursed to this damned Throne?

"Nor had Robert," she stepped back and began pacing slowly, "sometimes the real thing is the best time to learn. No room for mistakes…makes you work harder,"

"I'm so tired," he exhaled, meaning it in more ways than one.

"I know," she spoke calmly, "but you are strong, my son. Stronger than you know,"

He breathed, staring at his fists which leant on the table.

 _Ours is the fury,_ he reflected again, his father's last words and the words which would live in him forever echoing in his mind.

"Let them back in," he instructed and the door was opened again, his council taking their respective seats,"I want us to prepare for battle. _All_ houses are to send out a call to their sworn banners,"

"Your Grace…is it not…wiser to try and keep at least a…sense of peace in the Realm?" Pycelle challenged with all the courage of a small child. Will had never understood why everyone hated the old man until his small council meetings. The sooner Pycelle left, the better.

"Any sense of peace left the Realm when the Greyjoys set out of Pyke," Littlefinger reminded.

"Sieges, battles, casualties," Will listed, "tell them to be prepared for all and any,"

The old maester continued, "Your Grace, I would recommend-"

"That was an order, Grand Maester," the King asserted, "be on your way,"

The lecherous man nodded, leaving the chamber and everyone in it with a slight sense of relief.

"What word from Winterfell, Lord Varys?"

"The Bolton's haven't laid siege yet, but it is expected eventually,"

"Eventually…meaning?"

"When _she_ arrives," Varys informed.

"We can't _let_ her arrive…and we won't. No word has come from the Eastern Coast of ships arriving…maybe it's time we look at constraining her to Qarth,"

"We could commission a small force, though by the time they reach…it may be too late," Bronn contributed.

 _Scratch that then,_ Will thought.

"Lord Renly, sail for Dragonstone. I want you to speak with Stannis about minimising her threat. If she arrives, we'll lose the North sooner than we can stop it," he instructed.

"As you wish, Your Grace,"

"If I may, Your Grace," his Uncle Tyrion began, "it may be time to consider the planning of your wedding,"

It was all William could not to blush. He smiled slightly, catching his mother's smile also. If Sarafine were here, she would be smiling too, especially after their time outside of the castle walls.

 _But isn't it slightly…ignorant,_ the King mused internally, _to have a royal wedding in the midst of a war for the Throne itself?_

"The Realm needs distraction…the focus can't remain on the War in the North," the Hand continued. William wanted to clear the chamber again. To him, this was private, not politics - but it couldn't be ignored.

"I…won't rush wedding her just to distract the people,"

"As is your wish, William, but I'd strongly recommend we at least begin preparing,"

"Not until the Princess Sarafine is ready,"

"She has had her blood, William," Cersei started.

"I don't mean that," he snapped, blushing slightly before calming, "we'll discuss this in private, Uncle. If there's nothing else…council is dismissed,"

Tyrion, Cersei and Joffrey met with the King in his solar later that afternoon. He wanted to invite Sarafine there as well, but refrained. The breeze was cool on his face and he heard the rolling of the waves once again. He closed his eyes.

 _Her hips fit in his hands perfectly as he laid them against her, whispering in her ear to open her eyes. He heard her draw in a breath; either because she did so loudly or because he was so close to her. She spoke his name and everything faded away - all he saw was her. Not the Blackwater or the stars of the night…but her._

"Brother," Joffrey pulled him out of his daydream.

"Joff," the King turned, reminded of the presence of his family.

"What are you thinking of, Your Grace?" Joff smirked, to which Will responded with a smile.

"Mother, uncle," he addressed, stepping to the table they were seated at.

"Your Grace,"

"Do you wish to discuss the wedding?" Tyrion began.

"I wish to debate its discussion entirely, uncle," Will said, matter-of-factly.

"William, it need be soon," Cersei offered.

"Why?" the King asked, "I don't want it to be like that,"

"Like what?" Joffrey questioned.

"Like I'm marrying her because I have to,"

"You _do_ have to," Joff continued.

"Aye, but that's not why I'll do it,"

"Young love," Tyrion sighed, frustrating the King.

"Make your arrangements if you wish, Uncle, but I won't have her rushed,"

"William, Sarafine is as ready as you," Cersei assured but it wasn't enough.

"That doesn't mean it should be rushed," he asserted again, "mother, I know that you weren't blessed for time with father…but this is different. I already sit the Throne and wear the crown. Yes, there may be contest…but that shouldn't be the reason we have the ceremony,"

"My sweet boy," she started, "sometimes we have to do these things…for…"

"The good of the Realm," Tyrion finished.

Will released a loud exhale, audible to everyone in the room.

"Leave me with my brother," he asked and they did. Will looked to Joff, a surprised expression laying on his brother's face, "is it so wrong for me to beg a moment with you?" he laughed.

"Seems unusual as of late," Joff joked, seating himself in a small wrought iron chair.

"Can I ask you something?" Will began, standing across from him.

"Of course,"

"Do you love your Lady Sansa?"

Joffrey stopped moving for a moment, as if the idea was so foreign to him that he needed time to translate the concept of it.

"What does it matter?" he asked, taking a sip of wine afterward.

"It matters," was all Will managed to come up with before repeating the question, "do you love her?"

"I barely know her, Will…no,"

 _Hmm,_ Will thought, _this isn't as easy as I thought._

"But if you _did_ , and you were me…or in my position, rather…what would you do?"

"What are you asking me?" Joff raised a brow in confusion.

"I want your opinion, brother," Will exhaled, frustratedly.

"I understand…your love for Sarafine. I heard what you did for her last night,"

 _Have you now?_ William laughed to himself, _interesting._

"How many have heard?" he laughed aloud.

"Mother told me," Joff smiled.

"So, everyone,"

"I wouldn't be so sure on that…she doesn't see many people since father died…she's more private,"

"I presume my princess told her," he smiled at the thought of Sarafine running to tell Cersei…he must've done something right, "your lady, have you spoken to her since…"

"I have not," the prince turned, topping up his glass of wine.

"Joffrey,"

"That wolf shouldn't have been there," he mumbled.

"That doesn't excuse how you spoke," Will felt his annoyance growing, "she's to be your wife, not your slave,"

"It was my feast, Will-"

"Apologise to her, please, Joff," Will said, more asking than instructing, though he meant the latter. Sansa was sweet, she didn't deserve Joffrey's cruelties.

"What is it to you?"

"Your marriage secures _my_ alliance, brother, I need both of you more than you know,"

"She probably hates me,"

"You'll learn to love each other, Joff, but it's up to you,"

"How can I learn to love her?" the prince asked, seemingly curious.

Will laughed lightly at that,

"If I can learn to rule seven kingdoms, you can learn to love a girl."


	16. III - Joffrey

**_JOFFREY III_**

The prince looked over the table in the small hall where his mother had gathered them.

Tommen and Myrcella were on either side of him, with Cersei, Sansa and Sarafine across the table, the Queen Regent staring her son in the face. She'd apparently invited William too, but the King had a prior commitment, much to her disappointment.

Lancel Lannister also joined them at the table, now serving as the prince's personal squire since Robert's death, though with The Hound already acting as his sword and shadow - Lancel was merely a glorified handmaiden, in truth.

"The necklace is beautiful, Princess Sarafine," Myrcella commented.

And it was. Will had gifted it to his betrothed upon his 'proposal' of sorts. The sun and spear of her house; with a tiny ruby at the spearhead and a dozen others acting as the suns rays. The red shone beautifully on her bronzed skin, even in the low light of the evening. Every now and again, a gem would catch the light and everyone would look to the gold and red that hung from the neck of the princess.

"When did my brother gift that to you, Princess?" Joffrey asked.

"Last night, my prince. As a pre…wedding gift, I believe. Do you like it?"

"It suits you well,"

He saw the look Sansa gave him at that comment. _Bitter_. Joffrey meant no disrespect to his betrothed by the compliment - Sarafine was his sister, really. But the latter did look to him with a raise of the brows in warning.

"And, Lady Sansa, your dress suits you well also, did you make it?" he offered.

"Thank you, my prince. My mother made this for me before I left Winterfell,"

"How sweet of her," the Queen complimented.

The purples of his lady's gown made the auburn of her hair shine even brighter, and Joffrey _had_ noticed. She looked the picture of a princess tonight - regardless of her true position.

"Sarafine, I hear the King gave it to you at the Iron Gate in front of the Blackwater, that must have been lovely," Sansa returned to the topic, annoying the prince slightly.

"He did, my lady, it was very kind of His Grace. I'd always wanted to see the view from the Iron Gate and now I have," she smiled.

Once again, the prince found himself in envy of his brother. Will was good at _everything_. He knew how to make anyone love him, or maybe he didn't and it was his charisma that drew everyone in. Joff couldn't even get his lady to like him.

 _It's my own fault,_ he thought regretfully of his nameday feast, _why would she want me?_

"Will Uncle Jaime be home soon, mother?" young Myrcella asked.

 _Gods, don't remind us._

Cersei couldn't bare to tell her children of their uncle's misfortune. Ser Jaime Lannister - the mighty Kingslayer - captured by the wretched Boltons. As far the younger children knew, their uncle was in Winterfell serving alongside Ned Stark. Joffrey, Will and Sarafine had all been sure to refrain from mentioning his name in front of Tommen and Myrcella, but Joff found himself missing the blonde knight. The ladies all seemed to love him too, _what Lannister trait did I miss out on?_ the prince mused.

Sometimes, Joffrey thought he wasn't fit for love at all.

"Jaime will return whenever your brother wills him to," Cersei managed.

"The North needs Jaime more than we do, princess," Joffrey offered.

His Lady's eyes fixed on him then. The dinner conversing continued for a few moments, but he couldn't shake her gaze. She smiled at him and he at her.

 _If I can learn to rule seven kingdoms, you can learn to love a girl_. Will's words rang in the prince's mind. He damned his brother for being right, but thanked him also. If this was his only chance, he was going to take it.

"Lady Sansa, would you like to take a walk? With me?" Joffrey interrupted whatever was being said, he couldn't quite recall what it was but it mustn't have been of higher importance than his request for everyone stopped and looked his way. The girl looked to Sarafine and smiled at her future queen in the giddiest of manners.

"I would love to, my prince," she rose, a slight sense of relief flowing through Joffrey's body, "may I be excused, Your Grace?" she asked Cersei.

The Queen Regent allowed them to take their leave, the prince holding his freshly-healed arm out for Sansa to take. Her hands on his arms still felt foreign to him, even after escorting her to court and banquets for months now.

The prince began to ask himself if he was truly nervous, he'd never _really_ felt the emotion before until now.

 _Where am I even taking her?_ he began to panic internally.

"Are you well, my prince?" she asked him when they had exited the small hall.

"I am, and you my lady?"

"Well, my prince,"

"Have you received any word from your family?"

"Yes, my prince, they are faring well so far but I still pray for them day and night,"

"As do I," he fibbed, knowing it was the thought that would count with Sansa, not his silent prayers to gods he believed didn't hear him.

 _The courtyard, aye,_ he thought, _I'll take her there._

Lancel Lannister followed them, much to Joffrey's annoyance. The boy may have been slightly older than Joffrey but was more incompetent than his late father's fool, Moon Boy. And Joff didn't have room for incompetence with what he was about to do.

"Leave us, Lancel," Joffrey instructed.

"My prince, you-"

"You may wait for me at my chambers," the prince asserted and the squire scurried away. Joffrey knew that now was the time to at least _try_ and swallow his pride, though his anxiousness was making it difficult. He worried that his "moonlight walk" with Sansa wouldn't live up to her expectations, having heard of Sarafine and Will's the night prior. The prince did not have a necklace to offer his betrothed, but he did have something he hoped she valued more.

"My lady, I must apologise to you," he blurted.

"My prince, it's quite alright," she said.

"No…it isn't," he accidentally spoke aloud, ignoring his nerves and continuing, "my…actions…at the feast the other night were…less than acceptable. The wine got to me, you see. I wasn't thinking and for that I must ask your forgiveness,"

"Joffrey," their pace slowed to a stop before she continued, "you are forgiven,"

He breathed in relief, "thank you, my lady,"

"I know that you aren't…fond of direwolves, my prince, but if you like…sometime…you may come and pet Lady," she stumbled nervously, "she won't harm you, I swear it, she's not like my sister's beast,"

Joffrey would admit that he was taken aback by her suggestion, but he answered the only way that he could as they reached the courtyard and looked over the moonlit bay.

"I would be happy to, my lady."


	17. IV - Cersei

**_CERSEI IV_**

She watched Myrcella at the table for a moment, talking and eating and laughing in her seat. Ten years old. Cersei wasn't married off to Robert until seventeen and she couldn't imagine Myrcella being sent away any earlier. Then again, the Dornish princess relocated to the Capital at the age of five and didn't seem bothered at all. However, her mother was in the next life and was not around to object. Myrcella wouldn't move to be Queen, either, she'd only be Lady of the Vale. But regardless of titles, Cersei wasn't ready. She wondered if she'd ever be.

Days later, the Queen Regent strolled to another of her son's meetings. They had seemed almost a daily occurrence of late - with the war and all. Robert had never included Cersei, only ever Will and other members of his small council, but now with Will as the King and her as his Regent - things had changed dramatically.

Renly and Stannis were both at Dragonstone now and it was only a matter of time before Littlefinger would slither away to the Eyrie to arrange Princess Myrcella's betrothal. Today, the council consisted of Lord Baelish himself, Joffrey, Varys, Ser Barristan, Qyburn and Grand Maester Pycelle.

"My lords, Joffrey," she addressed upon entering the room. Her eldest son and younger brother were not yet present.

"Your Grace," they returned the courtesy.

"The King is not yet here, may I ask why?" Joffrey looked to her.

"The King is busy, I'm sure he won't keep us waiting long," she began, "how is the Lady Sansa?"

"Well," the prince responded, somewhat short with his mother.

Cersei had heard that Joff _finally_ attempted to show affection to the Stark girl. She was proud, yes, but wary also. It had come to her attention that Joff didn't understand romance in the slightest; she worried that he would kill his chances with Sansa if he continued with sporadic outbursts like that of his nameday feast.

The doors burst open once again, everyone rising to greet His Grace, King William, and his Lord Hand.

"Your Grace, my lord,"

"Be seated," Will said, beginning his steady paces around the room.

"Do you bring news today, brother?" Joffrey opened the conversation.

"Yes, and not of the good kind," he exhaled, refusing to look at anyone in the room, "Lord Varys, read the raven's scroll,"

"Yes, Your Grace," the eunuch began, his hands unrolling the paper ever so delicately and slowly that Cersei wished to rip them from his pampered fingers and read them aloud herself, " _the dragon has arrived in Slaver's Bay, docking at Astapor,"_

"What could she want in Slaver's Bay?" Ser Barristan asked.

"An army, Ser. A large army," William spoke and the room fell silent.

Cersei had heard rumours of the army trained by the Slave Masters in Astapor and if there was any truth to them then the Queen, and everyone in the city, had every reason to be absolutely terrified.

"The Unsullied begin training when they are children, my lords, they aren't really _humans,_ they're swords and spears: trained to kill all and fear none," Qyburn informed the small council. Cersei shifted in her chair, discomforted by the thought of some 8,000 eunuch soldiers arriving on their shores; with nothing to fear and everything to gain.

The meeting ended soon, with the King demanding that details on the girl's transaction with the Astaporian masters reach his chambers tomorrow, hopefully _before_ the deal was done. Cersei met with Sarafine in her solar later that day; not for any particular reason other than company. The Queen Regent didn't anticipate that she would have such love for the girl that would marry her son and give him sons one day - but she loved Sarafine as if she were her own. Still, she was worrying still about her younger daughter.

"Sarafine," she began, taking the hand of the princess, "my sweet Sarafine, may I ask you something?"

She'd been thinking about it all afternoon. Was Sarafine as ready as Cersei believed her to be? She spoke for the princess in front of her son but now she wasn't entirely sure she should have.

"Of course, Your Grace,"

"Do you think you're ready to be Queen?"

Cersei watched as the girl thought for a moment.

"Truth?"

"Always," the Queen assured.

"I don't know," Sarafine exhaled, "there's some days that I wake up and all I want to do is marry Will…others…I feel like I'm not ready…it's not that I'm not ready for him, but for the _responsibility_ ," she finished, seemingly tired.

"I understand…I was like you once, I'm sure you know by now," she smiled, "I was to marry the Prince Rhaegar from a young age…I was always brought up to be Queen. And then I married Robert, and became Queen as if his rebellion hadn't happened at all. Or so it felt," she mused.

"Were you scared?"

"Strangely…no," the Queen admitted, "I'd never met Robert before our wedding day but…the second I laid my eyes on him any possibility of fear just…melted away,"

Cersei remembered the day clearer than any but with everything that had happened - it felt a lifetime ago that she walked into the Sept gowned in white for her black-bearded conqueror. She knew she wasn't the bride he had dreamt for or been promised. She wasn't what he fought for, but she was what he won.

 _You are Cersei Lannister, daughter of the mighty Tywin,_ she had reminded herself, _a lion of the rock and a fit consort for any King._

"Mother, Princess Sarafine," William spoke from the doorway, "may I join you?"

"Of course, William," she smiled.

Her son sat across from his princess, taking her hand in his over the table. She smiled at him. Will's demeanour was different from that of earlier in the day. His steps were heavy as were his eyes and she worried for him…her darling boy.

"The necklace looks lovely on you," he spoke to Sarafine.

"Thank you, Will,"

"What burdens you, my love?" Cersei asked. A long sigh escaped Will.

"There was another raven, an hour past. A white raven," he informed, his hands rubbing over Sara's.

"A white raven?" the princess asked.

"Summer has ended. The Stark's are right…winter _is_ coming,"

"What do the maesters say?" Cersei inquired.

"It'll be our longest winter yet, and our coldest,"

The Queen knew winter and _loathed_ it. Everything was worse in winter. Colder, bitterer, more dangerous. Breathing was a risk, it seemed. It was warmer in King's Landing than at the Rock, but what if her father was still busy fighting the kraken? Or if Jaime never made it back in time for the long night?

 _Curse the Bolton's,_ she hissed in her mind, _I'll flay each and every one of them for this._

"I'll leave you be," she rose, not able to stand it any longer, "I shall see you on the morrow, my loves," she farewelled and they returned the courtesies.

And as soon as Cersei's chamber door shut behind her, tears escaped her eyes and a whimper fell from her lips. Winter is coming, indeed, but it left the Queen wondering, _and what with it?_


	18. IV - Sarafine

_**SARAFINE IV**_

The city was well and truly alive today. People in the streets; children, women and men alike. Even royals. Today, the royal party were out of their litters and walking by foot to the Great Sept of Baelor on an official visit of sorts. The sun shone brightly as they navigated their way from the Red Keep, through King's Landing and to their destination.

These official visits were tradition; every few months the royal party would make for the Great Sept to "touch base" with their Seven Gods, though Sarafine could not say she truly had any spiritual reason for attending, rather custom and time with William were her reasons. However, today's trip was very different to most, the sun did shine on Sarafine's face and not through the veil of her travelling cage. And she loved it. She walked with the Lady Sansa, who was dressed in a blue as bright as her eyes.

"So, you've never walked through the city before?" the girl questioned the Princess.  
"No, my lady, only ever in litters. It's safer, I'm lead to believe," she laughed.  
"In Winterfell, you'd be laughed out of the castle if you tried to travel by litter,"  
"In Winterfell, there aren't slums or assassins waiting in the streets," Sarafine jested, knowing full well that what she said was true, "do you miss it?"  
"What, Winterfell?" the girl asked, "I don't know, really. The capital is so much... brighter. And warmer. And, of course, there's the prince," Sansa smiled.  
"Things are improving on that front, I believe?"  
"Indeed, princess, he even pet Lady for the first time the other evening," Sansa informed.  
"And he didn't squirm? How noble," Sarafine joked, "I am happy for you, Sansa. I want you to be happy here, with your prince and our family,"  
"I am, princess, thank you,"

The stench of the city was unmistakeable. A combination of sweat and shit, so overbearing that Sarafine near stopped breathing a number of times. The litters were good for that, at least, but in the open air - every bit of the odour made its way to the nose of the princess. She hoped William would do something about it one day.

He walked ahead of her, her King, his crown atop his head and his eyes wearing their uniform look of brooding that disappeared every time he looked back to her, fading into a smile which was ever-so-welcome now. He walked with his Uncle and Bronn, the latter guarding his every move, though she wasn't sure Will required the defence of another as he was so gifted with a sword himself. She liked the way it hung at his side today, a true symbol of strength.

"Have you and the King spoken recently, princess?"  
"Yes, my lady, we walked the gardens of the Keep yesterday,"  
"He's so kind to you, you're very lucky,"  
"Indeed, I am," she smiled ahead at her love, catching his eye again, "as are we all,"

Sarafine looked into the eyes of the crowd. Hunger and poverty was all that echoed from the city streets and suddenly the princess felt guilty at the extravagance of her gown. _The cost of it alone could feed all these people for weeks_ , she calculated. Instead, mothers would strip their clothes and sell their bodies which appeared to be of more value. She shuddered at the thought of doing so.

The Great Sept of Baelor had truly earned its name in every respect. It was beyond magnificent; the size, the grandeur, the architecture - and she wasn't even inside yet. She'd seen it a hundred times before, but every time amazed her nonetheless. Her King waited on the steps for her, offering a hand to walk her up and into the building.

"Good morning, princess,"  
"Good morning, Will," she smiled, placing her hand in his before they continued.  
"Did you enjoy the walk?"  
"The walk, yes; the smell not so much, but what can we do about that?" she laughed.  
"It is less than pleasant, I agree, but there is nothing like walking freely,"  
"With a full compliment of guards," she raised a brow.  
"Semi-freely, then," he laughed.

It seemed that the Sept's statues looked down on them as they entered the hall. It felt so long ago that she had farewelled Robert in this same room - and she felt the gods stare into her then. She was to be the Queen and they would watch her every move from then on.

"Is it strange for you...coming back here?" she asked.  
"Mm," he said, looking to the space where his father once lay, "strange indeed,"  
"We'll all rest here, one day," Joffrey said, stepping past Sarafine and her betrothed.  
"Thank you for reminding us," Tyrion responded from behind.  
"Welcome, Your Grace, Princess," the High Septon, fat and clothed in gowns of white, approached the arm-in-arm pair. They returned the courtesy with a light bow before the servant of the gods.

Sarafine felt strange then, like she was being watched by more than marble-carved eyes. She clutched William's arm tighter as he lead her through the building which they'd toured countless times before - but maybe this is when they needed to be here the most. The princess recalled her prayer to the Seven from months ago when her love told her of the mere threat of war.

 _Mother, please, deliver us._

Had the mother heard her? Had any of the Seven she'd been taught about? With the war happening around them, she was doubtful. William had done nothing to deserve such a burden. He was good, he was kind, he was strong.

 _Why would the Seven punish him_? she questioned, unable to understand.

Still, the princess knelt and "prayed" with the rest of the royal family. She prayed for a number of things: storms over the Narrow Sea to drown out the Targaryen girl, deliverance from the War in the North, the safety of the Stark, Tully and Lannister families - the last being the most important to her and protection for her family in Dorne whom she barely knew but deeply loved.

It was near midday when the party began to make way for the Red Keep again, the Princess on William's arm, Ser Barristan and Ser Loras in front of them and Bronn trailing behind. Sarafine no longer felt she was being watched; she knew it. There was an air of unrest in the streets that wasn't present on their way here. She looked around, faces staring down at them in awe - but something wasn't right. It was silent enough to hear only breathing.

"Your Grace," a city watchman emerged from the silent crowd and next to William,  
"Aye," the party halted. _This is odd_ , Sarafine thought, clutching his arm tighter again.  
"I have a gift for you,"  
Will looked strangely to Sarafine and then to Loras who shrugged.  
"From Daenerys Targaryen," the man smirked, revealing a dagger and swiping it at her love.

Panic shot through Sarafine like never before and a silent scream escaped her mouth. Will stepped back, pushing her behind him. Every Kingsguard drew his sword as did the King himself. His breathing was as heavy as the weapon he wielded. And if it couldn't get any worse, the city watchmen in the street drew their swords too - _against_ the King.

Sara's eyes travelled over the crowd in terror, catching Cersei's equally horrified ones. One side of Prince Joffrey's face was coated in cow-dung, assumably thrown by another one of their city watchmen.

"Lay down your swords, brothers, there need be no bloodshed here," Bronn tried.  
"Brothers, aye?" the unidentified traitor started before spitting on the ground, "we're not your brothers,"

Arms gripped Sarafine before she could fight them - and they weren't the King's. The cold metal against her neck rose the hairs on her arms in disturbance. And it wasn't a necklace that was grazing her throat. She looked at William, who turned to his Princess.  
"Sarafine!" Cersei cried.  
"Let her go," the King demanded.  
"I'd rather not," the man laughed.

 _What is happening?_ she asked herself, unable to identify the soldier who held the knife at her throat.

Commotion began further down the street and from there it was pure havoc.  
"Protect your King!" Ser Brynden bellowed.

Then the rioting began. The metal was so close to Sarafine's throat that she figured any slight movement would result in her blood being spilt. The man who held her started walking backwards, taking her to a place she couldn't identify. She shut her eyes, unable to look anymore.

Clangs of swords, shouts of men and cries of women filled her ears as tears pushed their way out of her eyelids. She wanted to scream, to shout for William, but she didn't know where he was anymore. The sharp edge fell from her throat.

"Open your eyes!" someone yelled at her and she did.  
The sights around her were mortifying. Bodies on the ground; some of Lannister guards and some of city watchmen - traitors or allies, she did not know. The angry guard gripped her wrist and began pulling her through the crowds again whilst her eyes frantically searched for William among the bloodshed.

 _Deliver him,_ she prayed silently on a desperate hope that they would hear her this time.

The man dragged her harshly, jolting her forward and past others. She watched him strike at Lannister men and other city watchmen with all the confusion in the world. _Is he protecting me or kidnapping me?_ she asked, not brave enough to speak a word to her captor.

"Sarafine! Sarafine!" his voice called and she exhaled in relief, though she couldn't see him anywhere.

The grip of the enemy on her wrist loosened and fell, and then she wasn't being pulled along anywhere. She looked forward to where he once stood.  
"I said, _let her go_ ," William recited as the man fell on his knees at the piercing of the King's sword through his chest.

She'd never seen him kill a man before. She didn't think he'd ever killed one. And now he'd killed for her. He removed his sword from the limp body of the traitor, breathing heavily again. She looked at him in the eyes and he took her hand immediately, leading her forward on the road to the Keep.

The princess was overwhelmed by the noise around her and she couldn't tell which was worse; the sound or the sight. She looked around desperately for Cersei, Joffrey, Sansa, anyone. Occasionally, she glimpsed the gold glimmer of the Kingsguard but it was gone sooner than it appeared - lost in the crowd.

"What is happening, Will?" she asked.  
"I don't know," he panted before striking another assumed enemy with his sword.

 _Are the watch displeased with Will?_ she thought, trying to come up with some explanation for the trauma, _why would they be?_

Her betrothed guided her through the crowds as if she were a child, and she truly did feel like one. Helpless and innocent; scarred by the horror that surrounded her. Then she saw the blood where the dagger had collided with her love. _How dare they_ , she seethed in her mind.

 _Where's Sansa?_ she worried. Joffrey would not protect her, he was as skilled with a sword as a newborn child with speaking. She hoped that her uncle had found her in the chaos and guarded her - the Blackfish may have been Kingsguard, but the King was capable as any in protecting himself.

"William! Sarafine!" Cersei called as they reached the gate to the Keep. He lead her quickly to his mother.  
"Go, I'll be fine," he looked his princess in her eyes, anger filling them more than ever before.  
"Will," she gasped. _You can't go back, Will, you can't!_ she wanted to scream.  
"I can't leave them," he started, "they're my people,"  
"You are the King," Cersei spoke, pleading her son to shelter in the safety of the castle walls.  
"And that was an order," he asserted, kissing Sarafine's lips quickly before letting his princess go. She panted heavily, the Queen grabbing her arm and pulling her through the gate before she could protest.

The gate shut and she lost all sight of William. _Gods, please, bring him back to me_ , she prayed.  
"Are you hurt, little dove?" Cersei fussed, cupping the face of the princess in her hands.  
"No, but...Will," she breathed, looking back to the gate. It burst open again, this time spitting Joffrey out from the chaos. She sat on a bench, attempting to catch her breath.

His expression was near hidden beneath the shit which coated his face. Tyrion ran to him.  
" _Where's Sansa_?" he shouted. Joffrey's words were less than kind of his betrothed who had spoken so fondly of him shortly before.

 _Let them have her_ , he spat, _why?_  
"She's to be your wife," Cersei reminded, Joffrey seemingly not hearing her at all.

Lord Tyrion shouted some instructions to guards, who left quickly to find Lady Sansa - at least Sarafine hoped they were. He burst through the gate soon, her love. She rose, running to him as quick as he did her.

His arms wrapped around her tighter than ever before and she returned the gesture, fighting back tears as her head lay buried in his chest. His hand held the back of her head to him as his chest heaved up and down. The blood was on her now, in more ways than one.

"Your arm," she breathed, watching the blood soak through his shirt. He changed the topic quickly.  
"Are you alright?" he panted and all she could do was shift her head in a nod. His hands cupped her face, pulling it from his chest to look at him, "did he hurt you?" she shook her head violently in response and his hands found the back of her head again, the pair holding each other closer than ever before.

\- A/N -

Fam this chapter was so intense to write omg DRAMAAAAA

Hope you enjoyed it though lol :)

Don't forget to leave a review if you're enjoying the story (or if you have any suggestions!), your feedback means the world!


	19. IV - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY IV**_

Joffrey shouted orders everywhere.

"Bring me a towel, a wet towel!" was his first one, and the most important in his eyes. A prince can't walk around with cow-shit on his face. His sword was at his side but he could not say he'd used it at all; rather allowing his employed guards to protect him from the somewhat unknown enemies.

He watched as his brother held his princess as he himself was not caring in the slightest for his beautiful Lady. _She wasn't targeted_ , he thought in an attempt to justify his acts.  
"Where's Clegane?" he yelled to Lancel.  
"I don't know, my prince,"  
"Find him! Find me my _dog_!" he spat.

The gates opened again, his dog returning with a girl over his shoulder.  
"Little bird is hurt," he spoke softly to the handmaidens, "see her to a maester,"

Clegane stepped aside, revealing the Lady Sansa who didn't look a Lady at all. Her lip was bloodied, face bruised, dress torn and hair messed. She looked at Joffrey. He wanted to hug her, to see that she was alright. Her state elicited a sense of concern in him. And then all he saw was what she'd done before.

 _The Prince watched his brother ahead, an encounter with a city watchmen which seemed ever so strange to everyone around. Then something hit his own face, hard. Gasps were heard all around him as the dung began to seep into his hair and face._

 _"Who threw that?" he screamed, "I want the man who threw that, find who did that and bring him to me!" he shouted before the city watchmen began drawing their swords against the King and his party, "kill them, kill them all!"_

He lost his Lady in the crowds then, Clegane grabbing him and dragging him through the street to the Keep where he now sat, Lancel cleaning his face. But he remembered her face, the way she covered her mouth and not in shock. She was laughing at him. The prince who was hers, the prince who was heir, the prince with shit on his face - she laughed. It was only for a moment, but he saw it. Fury filled him just like it would his father if the same thing had happened, he thought anyway. He didn't care where she'd gone or what happened to her - this was the price she paid, even if he didn't charge it.

Joffrey's face was clean again, but when he looked for his lady again, she was not present. _Why did she not see to me,_ he thought angrily, _why did she not check for her prince?_

Eventually, the chaos became rest and recovery, soon after Will's return to the Keep as instructed by Tyrion. The small council met in the Tower of the Hand that evening. They sat around the table, the stench of death dancing around the room in the breeze that blew. William entered, his upper left arm seemingly bandaged under his doublet. _The dagger did get him indeed,_ Joffrey realised.

"Your Grace,"  
"The captives, what of them?" he began.  
"Some swearing loyalty to House Targaryen, Your Grace, the rest refuse to say a word," Lord Varys informed.  
"How many?" Will asked.  
"Roughly thirty were caught fighting against the crown,"  
"But who are they?" Joff spat, all eyes turning to him.  
"Freys, we believe," Bronn started.  
"Freys?" William questioned.

 _Freys?_ Joffrey asked, _how did Frey's get into our city?_

"They appear to have been disguised as city watchmen...for what purpose I do not know but the city watch is now down 300 men, leaving us with 1,700 for whatever else may come," Varys continued, ever so morbidly.  
"We need to be more prepared," his brother muttered.  
"More prepared?" Joffrey laughed, "we can't even keep our city under control,"  
"I didn't ask you, brother!" Will boomed, "things like this _can't_ happen under our noses. We can't just let anyone in,"

 _It appears we already have been_ , the prince thought bitterly.

"We have to close the gates, no one enters the city and no one leaves it," he instructed.  
"Your Grace," Pycelle started.  
"And what of our allies who are not yet here?" Littlefinger asked.  
"We'll know they're allies when they send word of their visiting _if_ instructed to come. No one else gets in,"

This was Will's boldest move yet. To close off the capital was...extreme, to say the least. Joff didn't like it, and he made sure he voiced this concern.

"You want to shield us off and hide us away?" Joffrey asked, curious.  
"I want to keep us safe,"  
"You want to make us look like cowards,"  
"Joffrey," Cersei warned.  
"They tried to take her from me, did you not see? Did you not see the knife they held to Sarafine's throat before they ran off with her. She is lucky to be alive. I'd rather be labelled a coward by my enemies than lose the woman I love to them,"  
"They hit you where it hurt," Joffrey tested.  
"Aye, they did. And they did the same to you, I hear," Will started.

Joff looked to his lap, out the corner of his eye, he saw them smirking; Tyrion, Baelish, Varys, the lot of them. He couldn't be sure of his mother.

Will continued, "I'm not your enemy Joffrey. The enemy tried to hurt us out there, defeating them is more important than our pride," he said, turning to their mother, "you're quiet this evening,"  
"You all have so much to say, I'm in more of a listening mood," the Queen Regent smiled.  
"I'd like to see you afterward, mother," Will instructed and Joff couldn't help but feel annoyed - _what could Will have to say to mother that I couldn't hear too?_

Nevertheless, Joffrey left the Tower of the Hand in even more glum of a mood than when he had arrived in it. His brother fought him on everything and his mother let it all happen. _William may be the King_ , Joff thought, _but can't he at least listen to what I have to say?_

The walk to his chambers in Maegor's Holdfast was lonely, save Lancel who didn't speak anything of substance at all.  
"If you speak another word, I'll have you sent to the black cells to empty the chamber pots of the prisoners," he remembered saying at one point. He didn't even know if prisoners in the black cells _received_ chamber pots - he just wanted the fool to shut up.

He heard her footsteps, dainty and sweet. _But she still laughed_.  
"Prince Joffrey," she nodded.  
"Lady Sansa," he greeted. The prince stopped for conversation but his betrothed did not do the same.

"Lady Sansa," he repeated, louder and with more frustration. And she continued anyway. _So now she ignores me?_ he thought, _who does she think she is?_

 _Let them have her,_ he reminded himself of his words, _she couldn't possibly know about that_.

"I don't think that yelling is going to make her want to speak with you, if I may be so bold," Lancel said while the prince stared after his lady.  
"You wouldn't know bold if it hit you in the face with a hammer, fool," he spat, turning away from the fire-haired Stark and making way for his own chamber.


	20. V - William

**_WILLIAM V_**

An aura of tension blanketed the city after the riot. It was a few days past now, but it scarred Will in more ways than one. He looked at his arm, the wound still somewhat raw. He was still astounded that the Frey's managed to pull off the act of city watchmen, let alone getting into the city. Security had been tightened to an absolute maximum since then. No one left the city and no one entered it with out special permission given by the King himself - giving him at least some control.

The King sat up, leaning his weight on the pillows behind him which held his head in sleep, restless as he was. Summer may have been over but the heat of the city was still lingering. Will's body felt sticky from the humidity. His bare torso rose and fell as he heaved his breaths in and out, overlooking the city from the windows in his chamber.

He ran his fingers over the freshly forming scar which laid on his upper left arm.

 _From Daenerys Targaryen_ , the traitor had smiled before splitting the silk and skin which covered the King. Blood seeped out of it occasionally, but the bandage bothered him as much as a nightshirt during his sleep; so off it came. Joffrey still whined about his feint scar from the direwolf months past, but Will had not decided what he thought of his own marking. Breakfast was soon delivered and the King was dressed for court.

Sitting the Throne had been quite uncomfortable; in more ways than one. The chair itself made his back numb and legs tingly, the cold metal the only solace in the heat that was his Throne Room; filled with lords and ladies of the court who presented their tedious requests to William, who really couldn't care less about most of them.

 _We need more men here, we're low on supplies there, someone robbed me, I can't afford my this or that_ , they all squabbled, the King having to restrain himself from rolling his eyes and groaning as his brother would've. He silently cursed the Greyjoys, hoping that they would soon leave his grandfather be so he could serve the Crown, not the war.

A small council meeting followed, with Varys claiming more whispers and Will unsure if he wanted to hear them. The King didn't want to resent the Spider, but when all he ever brought William was bad news; it was becoming difficult. He marched in, his council waiting in their regular seats, rising to greet their leader.

"What news do you bring, Lord Varys?"

"Yes, more great news I imagine…is the war over yet?" Joffrey complained.

"You're welcome to leave, brother, I can send you a raven to fill you in on all you've missed," Will asserted. _What is wrong with Joffrey lately_? he asked himself. His brother appeared determined to try undermine him at every point. Will looked to Varys and permitted him to speak.

His mother sat silently and stared blankly into nothing while Varys spoke, a handkerchief hanging from her hand that rested her chin. He grew so concerned with her he'd ignored the Spider's words completely until his tongue uttered the word "missing".

"Speak again, my lord?" he looked away from his mother and stared just as blankly as she at the tapestries on the walls.

"Your Uncle…Ser Jaime, Your Grace, has been reported…missing, somewhat,"

"Missing?" Will turned to face the Spider.

"The Dreadfort is in a right panic to find him, according to my whisperers in the North, it seems the Kingslayer is nowhere to be seen,"

"Don't call him that," Will muttered, "Aerys isn't a King anymore,"

"Names or not, Your Grace, your Ser Jaime _is_ missing," said Varys in his typical tone of dramatic morbidity.

"Well, where could he be?"

"No one knows," Cersei spoke, barely a whisper.

"How can no one know?"

"If anyone knew, he wouldn't be missing," Joffrey spat at his brother in response.

"Someone has to know; the most famous swordsman in the world doesn't just disappear without anyone having recognised him. He might've been prisoner for a while but I imagine his hair is still as gold as yours," Will thought aloud, _and his tongue just as sharp_. The prince was silent from then on, awkwardly shifting in his chair as everyone's eyes fell on his neatly groomed blonde locks.

"There's more," Cersei spoke. _What_ _does she_ _know_ _that_ _I don't_? he asked himself, confused.

"Regarding?"

"The Targaryen girl," Varys began, "it appears she'll be arriving sooner than we thought,"

 _Gods, no_ , Will thought, his eyes and heart turning heavy at the news.

"How soon?" the King spoke, his eyes closed.

"My eyes report that a considerably sized fleet has been spotted a few days away,"

"A few days?" Will shouted, furious.

 _Nothing but bones_ , he recited in his mind, _if only_.

"Yes, Your Grace," Tyrion muttered.

"How have we not heard this earlier?" he asked, in total confusion and disarray.

"I can only report what is reported to me, my King,"

"And you heard nothing this whole time? _Nothing_?"

"Not a whisper," the plump man sighed.

"And the Unsullied? I presume she is in ownership of them, also," Will looked away from them all.

"More or less, it appears. The ships bear dragon and kraken sails and carry enough men to take the city when she arrives,"

 _Enough men to take the city_ , Will repeated internally, _how could I let this happen_?

"Your reign shall go down in history, brother," Joff chuckled.

"You will not speak such words," Cersei snapped at her second son, something notably unusual for her, or so Will believed anyway.

"Out, Joffrey," Will exhaled, unable to tolerate the petty taunts anymore.

"I'm on your small council, you can't just-" the Prince protested.

"You forget who you defy, brother. I'll speak to you in chambers,"

Joffrey stormed out of the room with a huff, Lancel Lannister trailing closely behind him. _Who_ _invited_ _Lancel to attend_ _my small council meetings?_ Will wondered, not trusting or caring for his oddity of a second cousin.

"Where will she hit us?" the King continued.

"We're still trying to conclude on that, Lord Varys thinks the Iron Gate however, I believe that it is too bold a move," Tyrion began.

"As is attacking the capital in the first place," Bronn spoke.

"Have any plans been made?"

"Somewhat," his uncle said with the rise of a brow, "best said in private, Your Grace,"

"Then council is dismissed," Will announced, somewhat comforted in his Uncle's support.

They discussed the plan, and in Will's eyes it was feasible - but in truth, _everything_ was a risk now. Joffrey burst into the King's own chambers not long after Will had arrived there himself.

"Good afternoon brother, would you like a drink?" Will greeted his brother, who seemed to embody their house words to a tee judging by his facial expression.

"Aye," he started, "what do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to know what's gotten into you," Will spoke as calmly as possible.

"Nothing's gotten into me,"

"Ever since the riot, all you've tried to do is undermine me, Joffrey. Don't think I don't notice it," he spoke angrily before handing the glass to his brother.

The Prince responded with silence, sipping his drink in an attempt to seem unfazed by Will's aggression; though the air of fear wafted off him like the scent of shit in Flea Bottom.

"Do you remember what I told you at father's funeral?" the King continued.

"Forgive me, I cannot recall,"

"We can't fight a war amongst ourselves," he reminded, "why are you fighting me?"

"You think I don't hear whispers, too?" the Prince said, frustration seething through his tone.

"What do you mean?"

"The riot…they laughed at me," he spat.

"Who laughed at you?"

"Everyone! The watch, the peasants, Sansa," he listed. Will would admit, he didn't understand his brother's point. Lady Sansa laughing at her shit-coated prince was odd, but more understandable than his near-week long feud with everyone except their mother.

"They didn't understand what was going on," Will tried to defend.

"Funny you say that, Will, because the second anyone touched you with a blade everyone screamed…you couldn't hear a laugh in the entire city,"

Will saw it then. Joffrey's jealousy was as clear as the sky outside.

"I don't know what it is that you want me to say, brother,"

"I don't want you to say anything, I want respect!"

"You can't just demand respect, Joffrey,"

"I can and I will," his brother turned to leave.

"And how has that gone for you so far?"

"I am a Prince!" he shouted.

"All the same, demands like that will not be adhered to," Will drank from his glass again, using all his strength to not give in to Joffrey's pig-headedness, "our city is to be hit in days…respect you don't deserve is not on my mind right now,"

"You-" Joffrey began, soon interrupted by a call through the door.

"Your Grace," a guard started.

"Speak,"

"The Princess Sarafine is here to see you,"

"Let her in," Will spoke, suddenly calmed. Joffrey did not feel the same, as evidenced by his instant storming out of the room.

She sauntered in, something in her hands and a burgundy gown complimenting every feature she had. And, of course, her necklace.

"Princess," Will addressed.

"Your Grace," she smiled.

"What brings you here?"

"I came to check that you're recovering. Maybe I should check the Prince instead," she laughed and he smiled.

"Come, sit,"

She walked to where he stood, setting down a tiny pot and cloth on the table next to her. He cocked a brow at what is was that she brought before looking down at her.

"Your arm, how is it?"

"A scratch, princess," he took her hand.

"I saw the blood, Will," she looked into his eyes, "I'm not afraid,"

William removed his doublet and undershirt, revealing to her the mark that had been left on his upper left arm. The muscles underneath it tensed with every movement, making his strength all the more clear. He watched her as her eyes travelled over his upper body, defined and tall. His breath was as audible as hers in the silence that they stood as her hand moved to touched the scab which was forming over his bicep.

"It's more than a scratch," she remarked, looking back into the deep eyes of her King, "sit,"

He followed her order, his bare chest feeling the breeze that flowed through the room. She'd never seen him like this before and suddenly he didn't know that he should've shown her the scar at all; _is this too_ _much for_ _her?_ he asked himself.

"I went to see Qyburn after the riot and he told me of the gash…said that you were lucky it were not a deeper cut," she explained, unscrewing the lid on the pot.

"I was lucky for more than that,"

"I'm okay, Will, truly. The traitor did not touch me more than to put a knife at my throat,"

"Hence, I am lucky,"

"Qyburn gave me this," she collected some of the ointment onto the cloth, "told me it would help with the healing,"

"Sarafine," he stopped her, "you don't have to,"

"I want to say thank you," she began, "you saved my life, William,"

"And I would do it again," he stared into her. She stepped close to him again, pulling a chair to her and sitting beside him.

"May I?"

"Aye," he permitted.

Her touch on his skin was a sensation he would never get used to. It was sweet, fiery and delicate all at once; he could not describe her hands on his body, but on his raw skin…it was something else. She began dabbing the ointment into the wound, and he watched as her eyes checked his face for a reaction. It stung slightly, and his arm tensed, but his face did not falter.

It was the most comfortable silence the King had ever been in. She was so close to him, her breath on his face and skin against his own. The solace she brought him was magical, so much so that sometimes he thought that she couldn't possibly be from this world, yet here she was. Her hands continued to dab at his wound; gently and softly. For a moment he felt as if it had just melted away.

And it was then that he knew.

"Sarafine," he spoke.

"Yes?" she responded, her stare remaining on the King's arm.

"Sarafine," he repeated and she looked at him, the emotion in her eyes indecipherable to Will.

"I love you," he confessed.

Before she said a word, she placed the cloth down and allowed him to take her face in his hands and lips against his. Her body rose from her chair and he brought her onto his own. The passion between them was undeniable.

"I love you, Will," she panted between a kiss. Her hair fell like water through his fingers; soft and flowing. He felt himself rise beneath her but he could not care for she was his and he was hers - in both their eyes.

"Marry me, Will," she spoke, kissing him again.

"If only…we were…already," he responded.

"I'm ready," she breathed, "I'm ready to be your Queen, whenever it please you,"

He looked his love in the eyes, holding her firmly in his grip in fear that if he let her go he'd realise it was just a dream and nothing more. He could've taken her right there were it not for their status. Would've, even. His blood was up and he wanted nothing but what was in front of him; his princess.

 _No_ …he thought, _my Queen_.

\- A/N -

Hope you enjoyed this saucy chapter ;) lmao

Just wanna let you know that as I'm going on a holiday in a week (until mid-December), I _may_ have to drop updates to once a week (strongly note the may). But I have a week off before I go so I'm hoping to get everything prepared! Also, I just bought A Clash of Kings today woo! And...I graduated high school (yeah boiiiiiiiiii)

Hope you're all having a lovely day :)


	21. V - Cersei

**_CERSEI V_**

Queen Cersei Lannister had waited on word of her brother for near two days, now.

She watched her son in the Throne Room, hearing to the needs of his people whilst concealing the fact that a battle was imminent and fast approaching. Her stomach had dropped in that small council meeting. She had always presumed to hand her reign down to Sarafine; however, now she couldn't be sure that they would be so lucky.

William sat the Throne with grace and strength; the picture of honour and leadership despite his circumstance. Every person that approached had their preconceived ideas of her son; she heard the whispers. _Young, inexperienced, careless._ And he proved every one of them wrong. He was the perfect combination of his father and mother and she smiled upon his every decision, yet she could not stop herself worrying for him.

The Targaryen girl was coming and whilst Cersei believed in William with every bone in her body - he'd never fought in a battle and never seen the truth of war. _If he was slain as King in his first year_ …she couldn't bear the thought. Instead, she held her head high, as did he, maintaining the perfect facade.

Court soon ended for the day, William requesting a walk with his mother through to her chambers to discuss something of importance, or so she imagined. He stood from the Throne and she followed him from her position to his right as he left the room,

"I trust you're well," he began.

"As well as one can be in our circumstance, yes," she breathed, linking her arm through his, "and you?"

He inhaled deeply; the crushing weight of the Kingdoms almost visible on her son's shoulders.

"Any day now…she'll be here,"

"You seem defeated," she observed.

"I feel defeated,"

"You cannot, William," she insisted, her son stopping in his tracks.

 _Oh, how he looks like him,_ she thought, placing a hand on his face, "you can't give up the fight before it has begun, my son,"

"I haven't given up…there's still a battle to come," he began walking again.

"See? Nothing's over yet," she encouraged.

"I know…I'm just tired,"

"How is your arm?" she asked, gently placing a hand over where the scar lay.

"Better," he breathed, "Sarafine has been healing it for me,"

"She is so sweet, your princess," Cersei smiled, "I thank the Gods for her,"

"As do I,"

"You really do love her, don't you? As your woman, I mean," she asked, already somewhat knowing the answer.

"With everything in me, mother," he looked to the ground, a smile playing at his lips.

"And the wedding?" she pushed, hopefully.

"Soon, once the battle is over and if we succeed…soon after," he breathed.

" _When_ we succeed," she corrected, desperately hoping that the plans William and his council had in place were sufficient to hold the capital.

"When we succeed," her son smiled, "I hope so,"

"I'm glad to hear you've changed your mind about the timing," she returned to her topic of choice, "what changed?"

"She told me she was ready," he explained, "Uncle Tyrion thinks it provides a good distraction also,"

"Which the people need…after the riot," she reminded herself.

The Queen Regent had seen war and had witnessed death; but nothing could've prepared her for the threats against her children. She felt her body turn to ice when the dagger struck her eldest son; no scream even escaping her mouth as it made contact with the skin she bore from her own. The terror filled her bones and made her weaker for each moment she could not see him. He was strong, but he was a fighter like his father and she worried he would get himself in quite the predicament if he did not prioritise his own safety.

Sometimes Cersei wondered if William forgot he was the King. If he forgot he was one of the most important people alive or one of the most influential, at that. One of the most loved and most despised. One of the finest blood but of the worst destruction. William seemed so perfect to her that sometimes she questioned it.

He was born out of a war, in truth. She was married to Robert and William was her gift to her beloved husband and the Kingdom he'd fought to defend against the corruption that threatened to swallow it all. Yet William carried himself with the integrity of any man; born out of an alliance-marriage resulting from a war, he carried himself honourably all the same.

The day he was born was one of the greatest days she could recall. Her son. She looked into his deep brown eyes for the first time and fell hopelessly in love. It didn't matter to her whether he was cruel or kind, brave or weak, handsome or ugly - she knew that she would love him all the same. The heir to the kingdoms and the future leader of the realm, he was. But to her, he was just her baby boy. Something great out of something morbid. Something bright out of the darkness. And now he was leading them all through a similar time.

"Varys says they think it were Joffrey who started it…" Will informed her.

"Your brother did not," Cersei defended.

"I know he did not…but his reaction hasn't painted him in the best light for my people,"

"I understand, does my younger brother recommend anything?"

"I have not spoken with him on the issue,"

"Let me offer you some counsel, my son," she started, "the people want a face. They want to know who they're following, who's leading them. Not just the promise of the Crown but the…reality of it, if you will,"

"I'm not sure I understand," he furrowed his brow at her idea.

"Speak to them, Will,"

"Speak to them?" her son looked her in the eye, confusion filling his deep brown eyes.

"Address them,"

"Care to clarify?"

"Tell them the truth of what happened…that you are leading them all the way. You need them as much as they need you,"

"I know," he breathed another heavy sigh.

"You'll need the support of them if you plan on winning this battle,"

"They can't fight," Will spoke in confusion.

"No, they can't. But you'll be surprised how dramatically commoners can tip the scales of battle," she advised as they arrived at her chamber door.

Her son kissed her cheek and let her go, returning to his own royal chambers to mull over the various appointments that required him. Seventeen years ago; his only appointment was to _be._ She closed her eyes and felt them staring into his newborn brown ones once again. _And oh, how you've grown,_ she thought, smiling to herself in a bittersweet manner.

The remainder of the day was shaping up to be as dull as the next until the raven's scroll arrived at her chamber door late that afternoon. She opened it in a hurry, sending handmaidens out and keeping the parchment close. She'd seen the seal and knew that it carried words more important than the lives of most whom had occupied her room.

 _Daughter,_

 _You'll be pleased to know that your brother has been found safe and alive. Ser Jaime is currently riding to the Capital in great haste, however, his captivity has left him weaker than usual. The tides have turned in our favour and battle is won at the Rock. You and your son should expect me in King's Landing soon; should things go to plan._

 _Rest easy, child, the plan is underway._

 _Tywin Lannister_

 _Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West_


	22. V - Sarafine

**_SARAFINE V_**

Sansa was already sat in Cersei's solar when the Princess arrived.

"Ah, Sarafine, my love. Good morning," the Queen rose to greet her, Lady Sansa doing the same. Sarafine shared embraces with them both; an air of pride in the room.

"Are you well?" the princess asked and Cersei smiled.

"It is a wonderful day, princess," Cersei began.

"It is?" she asked, looking to Sansa for some form of explanation.

"Lady Sansa has flowered over night! Haven't you, little bird?" Cersei said, taking the hand of the somewhat timid child.

Sarafine didn't know whether to comfort or congratulate her. When she herself first flowered, it was a celebrated day. Cersei was more thrilled than ever in the eyes of the Princess.

 _"You know what this means, don't you?" the Queen said with a great smile, "you can bear children for the King,"_

 _Cersei's smile was so great that her cheeks must've begun to ache as much as what laid in between the legs of the young girl; who would've been more thrilled had the pain not been so frustrating and the blood not so…everywhere._

 _The Princess woke with fear in her eyes when she saw it. She knew what it was, but she didn't expect it when it came. It hurt more than she imagined and was far messier as well. Sarafine stayed so stiff as to not make a further mess in her attempt to get out of bed that she felt like an old woman._

 _Though when her handmaidens saw the sheets they ran straight to Cersei with wide eyes and sweet smiles of the news that their future Queen had truly become a woman._

The Princess looked to Sansa, who smiled but didn't seem all too excited.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Sarafine asked.

"Fine, truly. It is a strange feeling but I only feel a bit tired," Sansa said as they seated themselves again.

"How lucky, I endure great pains during my blood. I pray you will not suffer the same," the princess squeezed the pale hand of the girl.

"Thank you, Princess,"

"But Your Grace is right," she turned to Cersei, "this is a very exciting day,"

"Indeed," the Queen smiled again, "princes and princesses ready to be born," she smiled.

"Should someone tell Joffrey?"

"No-," Sansa started, stopping herself all too late.

Cersei tilted her head, "little bird?"

"All I meant is that…it's…" she struggled.

"Embarrassing?" Sarafine suggested, knowing full well what the girl _really_ meant.

"Yes," she exhaled in relief.

"Oh, trust me. It's something to be celebrated, my sweet," Cersei insisted as a guard called from the door.

"Beg me pardon, Your Grace. Lord Tyrion wishes to speak with you in the Tower of the Hand," he announced. Cersei left shortly after, Sansa and Sarafine remaining in each others company and confidence.

"May I ask you something, Sansa?"

"Mm," she said, looking around the room in clear discomfort.

"Do you trust me?" the Princess questioned, curiosity burning through her.

"Yes," Sansa looked at her, confused.

"Why do you not wish Joffrey to know? About your blood?"

"It's emb-" Sansa began the same falsehood.

"I won't betray you, my lady. Speak truth to me, please," Sarafine pleaded.

Sansa looked to the ground, avoiding Sarafine's own eyes. The guilt became so apparent to the Princess as she watched the young Stark try to find the words to say. _Speak truth to me,_ Sarafine begged again, internally.

"I'm afraid of him," she spoke.

"Of who? Joffrey?"

"Yes," she nodded, tears beginning to flood her eyes.

"Oh, my lady!" Sarafine gasped, taking the girl into her arms. Sansa's sobs hurt the princess; she couldn't imagine being afraid of her husband-to-be, "what is it that you fear from him?"

"He hates me!" she cried.

"Hush, my lady, he does not hate you,"

"How would you know?" she sniffed, "forgive me, Princess, I did not mean that,"

Sarafine knew that Sansa meant no harm and that her apparent fear was only enhanced by what her body had blessed her with this particular morning, yet she saw truth in it. _How would I know?_ she asked herself, _I've never spoken with Joffrey on the topic._

"Lady Sansa…what makes you think the Prince hates you?"

"He just does, Princess. After the Kingsroad…I should've known. I should've just told my father I wanted to leave and I should've gone home and none of this would've happened," Sansa said frustratedly, drying her tears as she fought back more.

"If you went home, my lady, you'd be stuck in the midst of a war. I imagine this is a much better arrangement," Sarafine attempted to assure.

"That's another thing, isn't it? My family are fighting the traitors while I sit here and try to make my prince like me. All I really do is make him think I'm stupid," she shook her head in defeat.

"You're not stupid, Sansa. No one thinks that,"

" _He_ does,"

"Did he tell you this?"

"No…it's the riot. He didn't come back for me. I know what he said, Sarafine, I know that he told the guards to leave me. If that's not a clear enough sign of hate then I don't know what is,"

Sansa had Sarafine lost for words. She had forgotten completely what Joffrey had said of her amid the chaos and she was even more confused as to how the girl found out.

"Forgive me, my lady, I did not know,"

"I don't want him to know about this," she looked to her thighs, "I don't want him to hurt me,"

"He won't. I won't let him, Sansa,"

"Thank you, princess. But I fear you have as much power over Joffrey as I," Sansa spoke sorrowfully, addressing the truth they both knew.

Sarafine wanted to protect Sansa. The girl was sweet, innocent, outspoken sometimes but harmless in truth; _what could Joffrey hate her for?_ The girls left the solar eventually, both making way for the gate of the Keep where William wished to address the common people. When she arrived, he summoned her to his side.

"Fear not Lady Sansa," Sarafine promised again, "Joffrey will not harm you,"

"Thank you," the girl whispered before Sarafine took the hand of her King and stood before them all.

Her heart stopped for a moment. She wasn't Queen yet, but there she stood with her love and his Queen Regent as if she herself were ruling over them all. There were so many of them; names and faces she would never know. Cries and laughs, smiles and frowns, rich and poor - and this was just her city. There were multitudes more just like it; and people all the same. The Princess was saddened by this realisation. _How can I possibly help anyone if I can't remember a single one of their faces?_ she asked herself. However, she continued to wave in their direction as any true Queen would.

William looked to her, "are you alright?"

"Mm," she began, "there's just so many of them,"

"I wouldn't keep them waiting much longer, Will," Cersei recommended from the right side of her son.

"Are you ready?" he asked his Princess.

"When you are," she smiled at him softly.

He stepped closer to the crowd from his place on the gate and the people fell silent. For a moment, Sarafine panicked that they would see a repeat of the other day and that someone would try to hurt him again. She saw the same fear in Cersei's eyes too and hoped desperately that the nightmare would not come true. She'd been having them so often lately. _What if the traitor did cut my throat?_ she wondered, _or worse, what if he cut Will's?_ She tried as best she could to keep such notions out of her mind; but they'd haunted her subconscious every night since.

"Thank you," William began, "I understand your confusion…your frustration…at the events of days past. I must say; I was as baffled as you were when the riot began. I wish to have you, my people, understand that the riot was the work of our enemies," he admitted, surprising Sarafine. She was well aware that the Freys were behind the chaos, but did not expect William to admit it to his Kingdom.

 _Isn't that somewhat confidential?_ she thought, but with the war she presumed it was important for the King to keep the trust of his people - or they would betray him just as quickly as anyone else did.

"Our country is at war, my friends, and we must stand united together: as one city, one people, one side…when the battle comes," he encouraged and they met his words with a great "hoorah," pleasing the Princess and her King. The address did not last much longer, thankfully. Sarafine was able to calm her nerves once they were not in sight of the common people and was instead making her way to gardens where she was to meet privately with her King.

She reminisced about their last meeting and smiled. The way he took her face in his hands and brought her body onto his made her want him even more than before. The moment they shared may have been looked down upon by some; but they told no one. It was _their_ moment - and her only regret was that they didn't take it further.

He stood there, dressed in the dark colours which suited him so well. He didn't notice her approach yet as he stared blankly into nothing; deep in thoughts of things she couldn't imagine. He looked tired, but he looked strong; his hand on the hilt of his sword which hung at his side. She could've stared at him like that all day were it not for the leaf that crunched under her shoe; removing him from his trance and her from her silent viewing.

"I hope I did not startle you," she began.

"Not at all, princess," he walked to her and kissed her hand.

"We haven't walked these gardens in a while," she mused.

"Indeed. You may have to guide me around them, should I forget the way," he joked and she linked her arm in his. _If only we were married and if only we were truly alone,_ she wished, reminding herself of the toned torso which lay beneath his silks.

"Is Joffrey well?" she asked, knowing how out of the ordinary it sounded.

"I believe so…why do you ask?"

"I…it's about Lady Sansa," the Princess began, hoping that the girl wouldn't consider Sarafine speaking with her own betrothed a breach of trust, "she's afraid of him…what he might do to her,"

"What he might do to her?" Will raised a brow.

"She knows that he left her to be savaged in the streets,"

Will stopped their walk and used his free arm to pinch the bridge of his nose; frustration beyond evident in his demeanour. Sara cursed herself for bringing it up.

"How?"

"I don't know but she does," she said, overwhelmed, "the point is, you need to speak with him,"

"Sara," he warned, "don't you think I've tried?"

"Will, she's terrified of him, please," she begged before she could stop herself.

"I don't have time to keep trying right now!" he said, frustration in his tone.

He'd never yelled at her before and she didn't know how to react to it. _Is he mad at me or Joffrey?_ she asked herself, remaining silent. _Gods, what have I done?_

"I don't know if we'll even be here in days to come," Will continued.

" _What?_ " she blurted utterly confused. All he did was shake his head. "Will, what's going on?" she choked, terrified of what he was to tell her.

"Sarafine, I must confess that I have not been entirely honest with you," he started, "it's about the Targaryen girl..she's on her way here and moving fast,"

Sarafine's heart sank with her stomach and suddenly it was as if every organ in her body had slipped out, leaving her empty with nothing but bones to hold her up.

"How fast?"

"We're expecting her on the morrow,"

"Tomorrow?" Sara gasped.

"Quite probably,"

"And are you prepared?" she asked, "forgive me, I know it's not my place,"

"It is your place, my love," he looked at her, "plans are made but I can offer no guarantees," he said, solemnly. She stared out into the distance, contemplating the near future which she realised may be the only one they were blessed with.

"I'm so sorry, Will,"

"You don't need to apologise to me,"

"How do you know she's coming? Are you certain?" Sarafine begged for him to tell her it was speculation, that she wouldn't come for a long time, that it was all a lie.

 _Please,_ she begged in her mind, _please just make it all go away._

"Varys' spies warned us but we know for sure she'll hit us…the Greyjoys left my grandfather a message," he explained.

"Stating?"

"They want to hit us where it hurts the most,"

"Seven hells," the Princess cursed, looking out to the Blackwater. _How many men will be dead in this water in the days to come?_ she mused, morbidly, though she could be forgiven; their prospects were looking rather dull.

"How many men do we have?"

"Less than we need," he exhaled, moving hair from her face and wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"Let me handle Joffrey, Will. I shouldn't have bothered you with it,"

"It's not your fault," he whispered, his forehead pressing against hers.

"Stay safe, Your Grace," she farewelled him, knowing that she had a job to do.

"And you, my love," he whispered and she stepped out of his embrace, denying him the kiss she had so desperately wanted to give him.


	23. V - Joffrey

**JOFFREY V**

His mother gave him the news after William's address to the city. His Lady Sansa was a woman now; they could marry whenever the King pleased it. The Prince would admit that his feelings regarding the occasion were mixed. He didn't know where he sat with Sansa after the riot and their brief encounter in the hallways of Maegor's Holdfast.

Maybe he had pushed it too far. From the day he was born, he'd pushed boundaries and the only people who ever stopped him were his father and Imp uncle, and now William. But Sansa didn't seem to care for his position at all. She didn't care that he was to be her husband or that he was a prince, a member of the royal family; King's blood running through his veins. She was hurt, and none of what he was mattered to her - only what he did.

Joffrey was glad to see Sarafine arrive at his chambers that afternoon, in hopes that she'd offer some insight into the mind of his betrothed. The Princess didn't bring with her a joyous demeanour, however, and the Prince quickly grew uneasy about the meeting.

"I trust you are recovering well after the riot, princess," he addressed.

"I don't have much to recover from, thank the Gods," she said, barely a hint of a smile on her face as she sat in one of his chairs.

"May I ask what brings you here?" he seated himself.

"Can't I come visit my future brother?"

"Don't lie to me," Joffrey warned her, his patience growing thin. _Why was I cursed with such a temper?_

"Forgive me," she began, exhaling and thinking to herself before continuing, "it's about Sansa,"

His stomach dropped at the very sound of her name and he was suddenly nervous. Sarafine seemed so…sad, and Joff became instantly worried about the news she was to bring of his lady.

"What of her?" he asked, leaning back in his seat in an attempt to seem less concerned.

"I want you to know that she did not send me here, Joff. I'm doing this for her, not because she asked me to,"

"Go on,"

"Sansa heard about how you left her in the riot," the Princess confirmed his fears, "she's terrified of you, Joff,"

"Terrified?" Joffrey cocked a brow.

"If it were anyone else I wouldn't be so honest but you're my family. I don't want to see you throw away the chance you have with her,"

"I don't have much of a chance if she hates me already," he spoke, bitterly.

"She does _not_ hate you…she's just scared of what you might do to her," Sarafine explained, leaving Joffrey even more confused.

"What?"

"You left her, Joffrey. Do you know where she was when they found her?"

The prince shook his head, wondering what details he had missed of her experience in the city streets.

"On the ground with three men around her prepared to destroy her honour in the name of a war your brother is trying to win,"

 _Oh_ , Joffrey thought, _that explains it_.

"What does my brother have to do with any of this?" he asked, trying to avert the topic away from his Lady. He'd shamed her and he was ashamed of it.

"Will _needs_ the North, Joffrey. Sansa is the key to the North. So whether you want to marry her or not, I don't care. This is your position and you know what you have to do, why not just give it at least a _chance_ to be pleasant?"

"I have given it a chance!" he snapped, causing the Princess to jolt, "she does not want me, Sarafine," Joffrey rose from his chair.

"How do you mean?"

"She laughed at me in the streets! When they threw shit at me, she laughed! I saw it," he shouted, anger pulsing through his entire body at the memory. Silence filled his chamber, the Princess apparently lost for words.

"Joffrey," she pleaded with her eyes, "I'm sure she did not mean any harm. Please…just talk to her about it,"

"I've tried," he started, "she won't speak to me,"

"I think you'll find she's changed her mind," Sarafine rose, "you know what today means for her…for you. She needs you as much as you need her and the Kingdom needs you _both_ ," she begged him, her hands gripping his arms and eyes burning into his.

"I know," he admitted.

"It'll be a far easier task if you try to show her that you care…"

"How do I show her? Every time I try I…mess it up," he said, reluctantly.

He didn't really know what more he could do. He'd pet her beast of a wolf, walked her through the gardens, personally escorted her to court… _what more does she want from me_? he thought, Sarafine soon answering his question.

"Don't give her reason to fear you, for a start. Your temper is what she appears most concerned about Joff. I know fury runs through your veins, as much as William's, I know, but there's a limit to what she can handle,"

"Forgive me, then, princess, it appears I must go see her to apologise now," he decided.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," the Princess hugged him and he exited his chambers, leaving her behind and making way for his own lady's door.

 _What should I say_? he thought to himself, _do I go straight in with the apology? Do I ask her how she is feeling? Or is that too forward? Should I even ask her about her blood at all? Is going to see her even a good idea?_ he panicked slightly, his pace picking up as he strutted past chamber door after chamber door _._

The Prince was broken out of his thought by the sound of her voice trailing down the hallways.

"Thank you for saving me," she spoke. Most of her conversation was difficult to decipher but the voice of the other party was unmistakeable.

"A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats," the Hound spoke in his distinct tone of raspy aggression.

 _She's speaking with him_? Joffrey seethed in his mind, _she told me she was afraid of him…that she'd never been more afraid of anyone; with his burnt face and angry eyes and all…yet she speaks to him?_

The prince didn't understand how Sansa could be more terrified of him than one of the scariest men to walk the earth. And since when did Joffrey give orders for his dog to rescue his Lady? _It is not his place_ , Joffrey fumed, his mind automatically jumping to the worst of confusions.

 _My lady, in love with a dog_ , he continued in his mind, _I suppose it suits her; a hound and a Northern bitch._ He walked past the both of them, refusing to offer any courtesies and letting his temper take hold again.


	24. VI - William

A/N: For a "soundtracked" version of this chapter (or any other) please see my wattpad account - cerseiforpresident Enjoy!

 _ **WILLIAM VI**_

The armour was tightened around his chest. William did not only feel the figurative weight of the Kingdoms, but the literal weight also. His freshly forged sword was brought to him and attached around his hips via the midnight black belt. This night would truly determine his reign; either by success in the field or death. He hoped for the former.

"You look well, my son," his mother spoke from behind him.

"Indeed, you do," Tyrion agreed, stepping out from behind her. He hadn't heard either of them arrive as he stared out into the Blackwater from his chambers.

The Targaryen girl's fleet had been spotted earlier today and she was sure to arrive tonight. Will hoped that his speech to the people yesterday had been enough to rally them behind him when he needed them most.

"He looks just like Robert, don't you think?" the Queen mused with pride in her eyes, though the King could not muster a smile.

"A true King," his Uncle commented.

"I came to see you off," she stepped in front of him and looked at him, into his face and over his attire.

"Why not in the Throne Room with the others?"

"You're my son," she started, "not theirs," her voice cracked slightly.

He saw her tears; the glassy film that covered her green eyes. The King willed her with his own not to crumble. She was so much of his strength, he couldn't lose her now.

"Mother,"

"Please come back to me," she whispered, hugging him tightly around his metal casing.

"If I don't...you know what to do," he told her, reminding them both of the plan they'd put in place. His family would not die here tonight.

The King knew very well that this could be his end, and he wasn't so sure he was mad about it, in truth. There were no Kingdoms to rule in the Seven Heavens. No people to please, no wars to fight - just peace. Sometimes, he thought it would be a better alternative until he remembered his princess - he couldn't find it in his heart to leave her behind.

"I'll see you again," William continued.

"Yes, you shall," she smiled with a sadness that left the King with a heavy heart as she exited his chambers. His Uncle sidled up to him and shared the view of their sea with him.

"When we visited Winterfell...I remember the Greyjoy boy telling me of when his father burned the fleet of my own in Lannisport. He called it a pretty sight, if I remember correctly. Perhaps, tonight, he will not be so amused by the sight of burning men, or the sound," the man recounted.

"Perhaps, yes," Will exhaled and prayed a silent prayer to whichever god would hear him.

 _Let it work, please_ , he begged, _let us all live here tonight_.

"Shall we go to the Throne Room? I imagine you have some farewells to make,"

"Hopefully they aren't farewells at all, Uncle," Will breathed, turning to exit his chamber.

 _Is this the last time_? he asked himself, glancing over the room quickly.

"No, hopefully not," his Uncle agreed, following him into the halls of the Keep.

The Throne Room looked rather glum in the dead of night...William did not know what time it was exactly, but it wasn't a normal hour for the castle to be awake and bustling. The room filled him with dread and he cursed the damned Throne in his mind. Had he never sat it; this would never be his burden.

His brother approached him, clad in the Lannister armour of crimson and gold. William wore the armour of his father's house; the stag branded in gold across his midnight black breastplate; with a similar arrangement of antlers branded his shoulders. He looked a true warrior tonight, his new sword at his side.

She walked into the room, her eyes tired and hair done as simply as ever.

"Forgive me, my love, I did not mean for them to disturb you in your sleep,"

"I'm afraid I've not had sleep at all for you to disturb," she spoke, Lady Sansa at her side.

"Are you well, my lady?" Will addressed.

"Yes, Your Grace, I've come to see Prince Joffrey off to battle," she spoke, a recital almost.

"I'll let you on your way then," he nodded as did she before she strode off to her betrothed.

"Please tell me everything's going to be okay," Sarafine begged as she took his armoured hands.

"You know I can't lie to you," he breathed, "I hope everything will be okay, I need you to hope so for me as well,"

"With every prayer, I do,"

"You are so beautiful, do you know that?" he stared into her eyes, removing a stray hair from her face.

"Don't say goodbye to me, William," her sad eyes told the truth of her affection for him.

"If things don't go our way, my love..." he began,

"Will,"

"Just let me say it," he stopped her, "stay with my mother, she will protect you,"

"I won't leave you," she asserted as he wrapped his arms around her, wishing for them to be back in his chambers like days before.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair.

"And I love you," she said, tears threatening to race down her cheeks as she drew her head back to look at him, "don't leave me here without you,"

"I could never,"

"Have you seen my brother's new sword, Princess?" Joffrey interrupted and William stepped back from his love, facing his brother.

"I have not," she looked to him and with that he drew his new blade.

The way it shone in the light was magnificent; it was as sharp a blade as any he'd ever owned - beautiful and dangerous at the same time. Most boys William's age would've been thrilled with such a thing, but he couldn't say that he was.

"Dragonsbane," he announced, "freshly forged this week," he held it out flat for her to see, though he imagined she would not be so excited as his brother about the blade.

"Where is Lady Sansa?" Sarafine asked the Prince after investigating Will's steel.

"She is on her way back to Maegor's Holdfast, I assume,"

"And have you made an improvement on that front?"

"Stay well, Princess," Joffrey cut off the conversation, indicating that his lady and him truly were a tender topic. She nodded and he left them again.

"I shall see you on the morrow, then?" Sarafine breathed.

"You shall," he smiled, before planting a kiss on her cheek and letting her on her way.

 _Please, don't let it be the last time_ , he prayed again.

"Joffrey," he called.

"Yes?"

"It's time we head to the battlements," Will announced, his brother nodding before they met and exited the cursed room side by side.

"I'm curious, your princess did not send your blade off with a kiss?" Joffrey asked, eliciting an eye roll from the King. _Why couldn't he just be kind to his own Lady?_

"No, Joffrey, she did not,"

"Hm," he thought, "I imagine she'll be kissing another sword of yours soon, anyway," he smiled wickedly. Will couldn't believe he was hearing of this now.

"I imagine it's none of your business," he muttered, his cheeks a soft shade of pink.

"But when is your royal wedding brother?" he continued.

"Let's just try win the battle first, aye Joff?"

"Gods, someone needs to put some life into you," the prince muttered, seemingly displeased with William's unrelenting focus on the battle ahead.

When William stood atop the gates of his castle and looked out onto the Blackwater again, he felt somewhat peaceful. Men hurried around him everywhere; carrying arrows, swords and spears and shouting commands in every direction.

 _Would it be wrong of me to ask that they all to be silent for a moment_? Will thought, quickly dismissing the idea. Tyrion met with them again, Joffrey instantly adopting a stance of superiority. He may beat the man in height; but his brother would never have a mind as great as their Uncle's.

"Will you slay the Targaryen yourself, Your Grace?" Joffrey asked from behind the King, "just like father did to Rhaegar? You'd be the second Baratheon to kill a dragon,"

"I've not decided on the issue yet, brother," Will responded, his frustration at his brother's cockiness growing quickly. He could hear her drums, signalling her upcoming arrival, though he couldn't be sure of how close she was.

"Your Grace, have you assured that Bronn is prepared to give the signal?" his Uncle interrupted.

"Aye, he knows what to do," William's gaze remained on his black sea under the night sky.

"You're leaving our entire battle plan up to one man?" Joffrey questioned and the King snapped.

"If I remember correctly, Joffrey, you have nothing to do with the plan because you have a tendency to fuck things up on a grand scale when they don't go your way; I won't have you do so tonight," he asserted.

"I'm your heir," the Prince reminded.

"Then this is a lesson and you best watch and learn,"

 _I really do need to put a son in her,_ Will thought, deciding that his wedding would be his first priority should he succeed in tonight's battle.

"Your Grace," Lancel Lannister's voice rang loudly, stepping into their vicinity.

"Aye, speak,"

"It's their fleet...it's been spotted from the Dragon Gate," the boy panted.

"How long before she reaches us?"

"A few minutes, Your Grace,"

 _And so it begins_.

"Thank you, Ser Lancel,"

"Where is our fleet?" Joffrey whined.

"Have patience, brother,"

"Patience? Patience? She's minutes away and we have no fleet,"

"Who said we needed one?" William turned to his brother who returned the comment with a look that read absolute lack of understanding; his eyes squinted and brow furrowed, "wait and see, Joffrey," the King breathed, turning back.

By this point, Will was rather satisfied with their plan. _If I'm not, who else will be?_ Though he'd admit that when he first saw the sails of her ship enter his Blackwater Bay, his stomach felt as if it had fallen into some far away abyss.

"They're coming!" Joffrey shouted into Will's ear.

"So are we," the King replied, remaining calm.

The King looked to his Uncle by his side, both of them sharing a look of desperation. _If_ _this_ _fails_ , _we_ _are_ _lost_ , Will reminded himself. A single ship of their own fleet came to meet her in the bay - manned by no one but ropes and carried by the wind as it transported the key to their victory.

"That's it? A single ship?" Joffrey stomped, "that's all you've come up with? I might as well throw myself from this gate now,"

"As is your right, brother. But I'm afraid you'd miss quite the show," Will said.

The ship was almost far enough in now,

"Nock your arrows!" someone called and the archers followed the command.

 _This is my army,_ Will thought, looking over them all, _and this is my battle._

Her ships flooded in, Will gave up counting them as he heard the drums being beaten on her decks, yet he continued to breathe in and out as regularly as ever as he watched his own ship float in along the sea to meet her.

"Give the signal," he spoke to his Uncle. The man picked up a flaming torch and tossed it over the Mud Gate and into the Blackwater Rush.

The King closed his eyes and for a moment he could almost hear the wildfire leaking out of his ship and into the depths. And when he opened them again, a single flaming arrow caught his eye and he followed its entire course until it plunged into the water and lit up the bay.

William had never seen a sight so bright in his life.

It was worse than staring into the sun and he could feel the heat of it on his cheeks and armour; sweat dripping down his brow and through his hair. Debris flew in every direction, polluting his waters along with the screams of the drowning and burning enemy. Her words may have been fire and blood, but it was William who was bringing them to life tonight - along with the fury his Kingdom was built on.

It took a moment for the noise to quiet down; once the fire had subdued and the screams had drowned out beneath the surface of the sea. Theon Greyjoy would certainly not think it such a pretty sight now, if he'd lived, but William had seen beauty in the burning of those who had come to steal his Kingdom from him.

He wondered if she were even on any of the ships that burnt, that if she too was sinking to the sand and mud along with the remains of her fleet. _Maybe it's over already,_ he thought; a foreign hunger still burning inside him, _is this how my father felt at the Trident?_

Then, as if William had been dreaming of victory the whole time, he saw bodies storming the shores and racing to the gates.

"Fire your arrows, damnit!" he shouted in fury, "if they take this city, they take all of us down with it! I'm not ready to meet my Gods tonight, brothers! Are you?" he called to them all.

"No, Your Grace!" they chanted back.

"Then keep fucking firing!" he ordered.

The King turned to his Uncle, "we should assemble some of the force to defend the gate,"

"Aye,"

"I'm trusting you to hold this city from here, Uncle. You have command of the wall," he instructed, knowing that his place was in the battle his men would be fighting if they were not careful, "Joffrey, Clegane, with me,"

William marched down the steps of the Mud Gate and into the courtyards, his city watch patiently awaiting orders as they looked to their King. The gate itself began to thunder with the sound of impact; its cause he did not know but it struck something in him.

The King drew his blade and shouted,

"Let us show the dragon what fire our fury truly burns!"

\- A/N -

And so the Battle has begun! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think by posting a review! Have a wonderful week friends! ?


	25. VI - Sarafine

Sarafine allowed the wine to slide past her lips and down her throat, wishing it to bring her some form of calm in the chaos that was engulfing her city outside the walls she was sheltered behind. Her gown was much alike the Queen's; metalwork on the bodice which resembled armour. _They wear strength out there whilst we wear it in here._

Many noble ladies sat in the chamber in Maegor's Holdfast, quivering in fear and praying in hope. Sarafine was afraid too, but she believed in her King more than any god - he was the realest thing she'd ever experienced, and she hoped she'd experience him again.

"I don't like the screaming, mother," sweet Myrcella said from Cersei's side.

"I know, sweet child," the Queen ran fingers through the girls golden hair, "when your brother wins the battle, it'll be done with, I promise,"

"William's not going to die, is he?" Tommen asked and Sarafine's heart stopped at the suggestion.

"Not if the Gods are just," Cersei smiled at her youngest boy, "princess, where is our sweet Lady Sansa?"

The girl perked her head up from one of the prayer circles, her direwolf at her back as her own personal guard,

"There she is...Sansa, darling, come sit," the Queen beckoned to the Stark.

"Your Grace," she addressed as she sat, her wolf trailing behind her.

"Does your red flower still bloom, girl?" she asked, receiving only a nod from the clearly anxious Lady, "not long left, now, I imagine,"

"No, Your Grace,"

"Did you see my son off to battle?"

"Yes, Your Grace. He looked very handsome in his Lannister armour,"

"Yes, he did," she responded, as if she could see him in front of her, "do you know what it's like for me to watch them go out to battle?" she asked both of the girls.

Sarafine watched as Queen Cersei Lannister sipped her wine again, "My heart has never been heavier. I lost my husband to nature's cruelty. If I lost a son of mine to that dragon bitch...I don't know what I'd do. I don't even know if I'd live through more grief," she mused.

"Sometimes the people who've lost the most prove to be the strongest," the Dornish Princess offered.

"True indeed,"

"If the Targaryen can fight to sack a city in the name of vengeance for a family she never knew...I don't believe your fury over your losses would even be imaginable,"

she continued, "grief breeds choice; strength or submission,"

"And if we hold the fury of lions, I believe the choice is already made for us," the Queen smiled at her, "more wine,"

Sansa sat, barely sipping on her own glass.

"We will prevail, my Lady. You have to believe so," the Princess encouraged.

"I don't believe in much anymore," she sighed.

"Believe in them," Sarafine begged, sipping on her own wine again.

Sarafine looked over the women. All invited here by the Queen Regent, as the laws of courtesy expected of her; though Sarafine would be surprised if Cersei knew the names of any more than five of the fearful guests.

"Your Grace," Lancel Lannister burst into the room, his hair sticking to his face from the heat of battle.

"What news, cousin?"

"It's about your father," he spoke, his volume lowered, "he's been seen riding here for battle," the Princess heard him and Cersei took her hand.

"Will he be here in time?" she questioned.

"The King set the bay afire, Your Grace, but her remaining troops have begun to attempt a breaking down of the Mud Gate," Lancel avoided her question.

"How many?" the Queen near shouted, fear in her eyes. Sarafine was lost for words completely, all she could do was listen.

"I can't say, Your Grace, but Lord Tywin's forces are not far from arrival,"

"And what good is that if her army has already breached our gates?" she snapped at him, "where are my sons?"

"Waiting to defend the city at the Mud Gate, Your Grace," he informed.

"Both of them?"

"Yes, Your Grace,"

 _Gods, Will, please come back to me_ , Sarafine panicked internally, _you promised not to leave me here alone! Get out of there!_

She shared a look with the Queen and knew that they felt the same. Sarafine wanted nothing more than to see her love safe, even if it meant that she would have to go get him from the vanguard herself and drag him to his chambers where safety was somewhat assured.

"Listen to me, cousin. If either of my sons are harmed, you _will_ suffer the same as them, do you hear me? Shield their backs. _Both_ of them,"

Lancel nodded in terror.

"Do not return here unless you mean to tell me the battle is over,"

"Yes, Your Grace," the boy trembled, walking out of the room.

The Princess thought to herself... _is this how I'll feel my entire reign as Queen? Terrified for him?_ She didn't like the idea of it...that anyone could hurt him and that he would not recover. He may have been a King but she had seen with her own eyes that he bled the same way as everyone else. She didn't want to live in fear that traitors contesting for the Throne would come for her love...and her too if they wished. They could hurt her in her bed, in her solar, in the streets of the city she called home - she'd learnt that in these past few weeks.

They could've come for her _any_ day, but now it seemed so much more of threat that her and her love would be attacked. Everyone was watching them, everyone was talking of and forming opinions about them - it was only a matter of time before the Princess would be a victim of treason; whether she'd pay with her life of temporary health she did not know - but that was the way of the world they lived in.

"Mother," his small voice spoke.

"Yes, Tommen?"

"What will happen if they get past the Mud Gate?"

"Don't worry yourself, child. Your brother is strong...he will protect us just like your father did," Cersei tried to reassure her son, but Sarafine remained somewhat unconvinced.

 _He is strong, but he is only human_. She believed in him, still, but not too much to think he was invincible. She could still hear the distant calls of "nock, draw, fire" when she listened close enough; a clear sign that the battle still raged on. She hated the sound.

She thought of her family in Dorne for a moment. _What would they think when they hear of_ _this_? she worried. They had already been wary of betrothing another of their Princesses to a crown Prince, though William was not a Targaryen; her Aunt Elia and cousins Rhaenys and Aegon had been slain by a now late Lannister commander. _Will they ask for me to return to Sunspear?_ she feared. Separation from her love scared her more than anything. King's Landing had been her home longer than Dorne had...she didn't wish to live anywhere else or with anyone else; regardless of her family name.

In truth, all the Princess wanted to do was sleep. Her eyes were heavy and her bones were tired. She did not know what the hour were when they collected her to see William off to battle, but she had not slept since the evening before. _How could I_? she thought, remembering the sounds that the breeze blew into her room; the plague of orders and grunts from William's troops as they prepared for what was to come.

"Shall we sing a song, Princess?" Myrcella spoke from next to her.

"Of course, Princess. Which song would you like?"

"I don't know, any, I don't mind,"

"I think it's quite the occasion for The Rains of Castamere, don't you?" she said, knowing that the girl hardly understood the meaning of the song but that the Queen and most other women in the room would appreciate the sound.

"And who are you, the proud Lord said, that I should bow so low?" Sarafine started, looking to Cersei.

"Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know," the Queen joined before the room chorused the tale of victory with them.

 _A coat of gold a coat of red, a lion still has claws._

 _And mine are long and sharp my Lord, as long and sharp as yours._

 _And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere_

 _And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear._

 _Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear._

"You'll make a great Queen someday, my love," Cersei smiled at her, "I couldn't be prouder of you,"

"You forget that you taught me all I know," Sarafine ran her fingers through the blonde hair of the Princess as her mother had done to her before, "I owe it all to you,"

" _Your Grace_!" Lancel's voice shouted again as he burst back into the room clutching his shoulder. _Oh_ , _please don't bring us bad news_ , she begged in her mind.

"They've breached the gates, Your Grace," he whispered and the heart of the Princess felt as if it had sunk to the bottom of the bay.

"My father is not here?" the Queen questioned, furiously.

"No, he-"

"Where are my sons?" she demanded.

"I do not know, Your Grace, I believe they are still fighting," Lancel stuttered.

"Has William given the order?"

"He sent me to give it to you, Your Grace,"

 _What order?_ the Princess asked, _is there something I have missed?_

"Sarafine," the Queen turned to her, "get Lady Sansa. It's time to go,"

"Cersei," Sarafine looked up at her, "what's happening?"

"It's not safe for us here,"

Without a second thought, Sarafine rushed to the other side of the room where Sansa Stark knelt and prayed,

"Sansa, we have to leave,"

"Leave? Leave where?"

Sarafine did not answer but to grab the girls hand and pull her along, behind the Queen and her younger children, the wolf following all the way.

"If things change, _find me_ ," Cersei instructed to Lancel before they exited the chamber in the Holdfast; leaving behind the women and wine which had been their company the entire night for a destination the Princess did not know.

It took her a moment to process Lancel's words; maybe the horror of their nature had washed over her and left her unable to comprehend them, but it appeared to have worn off now for she understood them in their entirety.

 _She'd made it inside,_ Sara realised, _and it could all be over now_.

From there on, she did not recognise the hallways they were walking through. She could not cry, she could not speak. All she could do was think about her William and the fate he were suffering on the battlefield for all the Seven Kingdoms that he ruled. The Blackwater was truly a dark place tonight.

Qyburn met them in the halls, a torch in his hand and a grim look on his face.

"You are sure that you know the way?"

"I've studied these tunnels for years, Your Grace. Trust me," he responded, looking over their company and back to the Queen. It was then that Sarafine realised what was happening. She squeezed Lady Sansa's hand tighter as they followed one another down countless stairs and into a dark abyss; lit only by the flames of Qyburn's torch.

Silent tears fell from the eyes of the Princess as they walked through the seemingly endless underground halls. Sansa was crying too, she could feel it when they linked arms. No one said a word; not even curious Tommen or innocent Myrcella. They walked with mouths shut like everyone else. The only sound to be heard was the footsteps of the royal party. Sarafine would've walked faster, as would everyone, had her heart not been carrying the weight of the world and her eyes constantly blinking the emotion out of her vision.

Qyburn moved with haste, but no one else could match him in pace - not even the four guards that accompanied them or Lady the direwolf. The walk seemed to go on for hours, or maybe it were just her sadness that made it feel that way. Lady Sansa whispered something to her about Will, but she barely heard it and didn't care to ask for a repetition. All she could do was hope and pray that the gods would deliver him.

"Are we far?" Cersei broke the silence.

"Judging by my markings," he held a torch to the wall, "we are halfway,"

Sarafine figured that they must've been deeper underground than even the Black Cells beneath the Keep; for she could not hear anything that was happening on the surface of the city. _Maybe there's_ _nothing happening at all_ , she thought, _maybe she burnt everything to ashes like her father had wanted too. Maybe she's just as mad as him_.

She didn't want to accept it, but she knew that if the Targaryen's forces prevailed, William would not see the light of day again. Her heart broke as she thought of it, wishing to be by his side instead of escaping in a maze of tunnels to wherever in the Realm the Queen had deemed safe for them.

Then she heard the footsteps that were not any of their own and her heart stopped beating in its place. The steps were quicker, louder, more urgent than anyone else's. She closed her eyes, _if this is the end please make it quick, she prayed_. Lady growled a wicked sound, her tail brushing against the dresses of Sansa and Sarafine.

"Your Grace! Your Grace!" his painful voice echoed through the tunnels. _Lancel_. Qyburn held the torch up and Sarafine was almost afraid to look in fear that the sight would not be pretty.

"What is it?" the Queen whispered, moving past her future-daughters and to her timid cousin.

"Lord Tywin has arrived, Your Grace. The Tyrell's at his side. The city is saved, Your Grace,"

" _Oh_!" she cried, tears of joy bursting out of her and Sarafine alike, "my sons? Where are my sons? Take me to them,"

"In the Throne Room, Your Grace,"

The trip backwards through the tunnels was such a rush that Sarafine could barely remember a single exchange she had. She ran through the narrow walls and up the steps, her shortness of breath making every attempt to slow her - but she did not stop until she saw him.

And when the Princess saw her King in his armour again, his face worn from battle, tears poured down her porcelain cheeks as he wrapped her in his steel-coated arms.

"I promised you, didn't I?" he whispered, smile evident in his tone.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she laughed through her tears.

"You are so beautiful when you cry," he held her face in his hands and kissed her.

And for Sarafine, everything was right again and her heart could continue beating.

\- A/N -

Yay for Will and Tywin's victory! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you are still hanging out to see Will in combat - don't fret! You will definitely see it soon!

Let me know in a review what you thought Cersei and Will had planned and what you thought of this chapter! ;)

Have a lovely day! X


	26. VI - Cersei

_**CERSEI VI**_

Lord Tywin Lannister rode through the Throne Room and up to the King himself on his white stallion; his lion armour a true depiction of the warrior he had again proven himself to be. The Queen smiled proudly at her father while her first born son spoke the words, "I, William of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, the Rightful King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby proclaim my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the saviour of the city and the Hand of the King,"

Lord Tyrion stepped forward and gave the badge of office to an ever-timid Lancel, who handed it up to the Warden of the West.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he responded, taking the piece of metal and turning his horse out of the room.

Cersei could not remember a prouder moment. Her son and her father; working side by side after defeating the enemy. Ruling their Kingdoms. Next came Loras Tyrell, who's family William thanked for backing the Lannister army and saving the city.

"If your family would ask anything of me, ask it and it shall be yours," he said generously, though the Queen could not say she liked the sound of the words. She trusted the young Ser Loras enough, having guarded both her husband and son - but she could not be sure of his family. _Call it a mother's instinct,_ she thought, _we shall wait and see_.

"My sister Margaery remains unmatched, I would ask you to do us the great honour of joining our houses in marriage," the young knight spoke and Cersei snapped her head up quicker than an arrow flying from a bow.

The only Tyrell daughter stepped forward; confidence nearly spilling from her tiny body.

"Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?" William asked.

 _This isn't right…something's not right here_ , Cersei thought in an immediate panic. She looked to the Princess Sarafine at her side and saw it in her too.

"With all my heart, Your Grace. I have come to love _you_ from afar," Margaery spoke boldly. The Princess shifted uncomfortably and Cersei's eyes moved straight to her eldest son who did the same.

"Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears…and those tales have taken root _deep_ inside of me," she continued.

"King William is already betrothed to the Princess Sarafine of House Martell, Lady Margaery," the Queen spoke.

"And he loves her too," William looked to her, "however, my youngest brother, Tommen, is not yet matched either, my Lady. I will have to confer with my grand father…we'll see what arrangements we can make for you,"

 _Oh, William_ , the Queen thought, _you're playing a dangerous game here_.

If the Queen recalled correctly, the Tyrells had fought against her late husband in his rebellion by choice. People could argue that the Martells did too, but they were married into the royal family of the time - leaving them with little choice at all. But the Tyrells… _there's something not right about them,_ Cersei critiqued as she looked back to the young Lady Margaery.

She was graceful and she was beautiful; but she wasn't true and the Queen could smell it from a mile away. The celebratory court soon ended, Will again requesting to see his small council in the chamber, his new addition included.

Cersei Lannister's father sat at the head of the table already, rising only for William and seating himself again soon after. She sat next to him and smiled to herself. _Maybe this would be it for a while. Maybe young Margaery would be her only challenge. Maybe things would all be alright again._

"You are all faring well after the battle, I see," Will spoke, "but it's not over yet," he announced, dashing her hopes of a peaceful Autumn and safer Winter.

"The dragon was not here," her father announced to the room.

"What do you mean _not here_?" Cersei asked, utterly lost.

"She sits in the Yellow City of Yunkai, Slaver's Bay, _still_ across the Narrow Sea,"

"With her eight thousand Unsullied," William informed.

"With her eight thousand Unsullied," Tywin repeated, slower.

"So, who did attack last night?" Tyrion asked, apparently as confused as his sister.

"Greyjoys, mostly. Some of her Dothraki. Her force was not large and it was not large for a reason,"

"They breached the gates," Joffrey reminded, evidently confused.

"Because they were told to," the Hand informed.

"A prisoner that we took left us a message," William said, "she didn't intend to sack the city. Only to test it,"

"Test it? Meaning?" Tyrion asked.

"She wanted to find our weaknesses, and now she has," the King continued, his standard small-council-meeting pace slowing to a halt

"Once word of the battle gets back to her…she'll prepare a real invasion; _dragons and all_ ," her father spoke, his disdain at their situation echoing throughout the silent room, "this is not a time to celebrate," he stood.

"We won a great battle," Joffrey scoffed.

"A battle, not the war," Tywin reminded, "there's more troops in the city now, not just a skeleton crew of city watchmen. But that doesn't mean we're prepared. We cannot play the wildfire trick again, she'll be expecting it,"

"And she will bring fire of her own," Cersei mused aloud.

"Indeed she will," William agreed.

 _This is far from over_ , she thought as she stared blankly into the table.

"From now on, the small council meetings will be held in the Tower of the Hand where I conduct my work," her father announced; no soul in the room willing to defy him, "we will begin making plans for a second visit from Daenerys Targaryen the next time I see you,"

"And what of Lady Margaery, my Lord, Your Grace? Is it truly your wish to betroth her to the Prince Tommen?" Varys asked.

"I wouldn't keep the Tyrells waiting," Baelish commented.

"You're not the one giving away a son," the Queen reminded.

"Ah, there's my daughter," Tywin laughed.

"Council is dismissed," William announced, walking to his family.

He leant his behind on the table and looked at his topmost advisers.

"She's five years older than Tommen, Will," Cersei began.

"Age doesn't mean anything in the game of royal betrothals," Tywin insisted.

"He's nine, father,"

"And when exactly was William betrothed to Sarafine?"

 _Damn it,_ she thought frustratedly in the realisation she'd have to come up with some other argument.

"I made a promise, mother," Will reminded, "I have to honour it,"

"I know…" she accepted, "I just…don't like her all that much. Can we not give Myrcella away to one of the older Tyrells?"

"Myrcella is our key to holding the Vale of Arryn," Will reminded his mother of the plans already in place, "we can't give her away because the Tyrell girl is…"

"Forward," Tywin finished, "you have to give her that,"

"Forward indeed," William agreed, raising his eyebrows, "what do you recommend, grandfather?"

"Margaery can have Tommen, in due time," the man decided, "for now, we have another royal wedding to discuss,"

"Indeed we do," Cersei looked to her son and saw the smile in his eyes.

 _We'll be okay_ , she thought, _somewhat_.

\- A/N -

Yay for royal wedding planning, no yay for Marg trying to steal Will lol

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know in a review if you think Will did the right thing by suggesting Margaery marry Tommen :)

Enjoy your week guys! Thank you so much for all your reviews and favourites, feedback means the world to me 3


	27. VI - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY IV**_

Joffrey marched into the Tower of the Hand, his breath harsh and uneven from the walk. He silently cursed his grandfather for relocating the small council meetings there. When he entered, it appeared they had already begun.

"Apologies, Your Grace," he began.

"Sit, brother," Will instructed, though the King never did the same himself.

"You were saying, my lord," Varys looked to the mighty Lord Tywin.

"Harrenhal is now even more of a ruin than before,"

"Harrenhal? The Tullys were holding Harrenhal," Joffrey interrupted, confused.

"And if you'd arrived on time like everyone else, grandson, you would know that a group of Bolton troops have invaded and wreaked havoc upon it whilst we were busy setting the Blackwater alight,"

 _There it is,_ Joffrey thought bitterly, _I should've known better than to think I'd get away with coming late._

"Moving forward," the Hand continued, "the Tullys have requested instruction on what to do with the castle,"

"Harrenhal is a ruin. It's no use to us or them," Will spoke, his feet still carrying him around the table in a constant pace.

"Agreed. We've got bigger issues to focus on," Tywin agreed, closing the matter.

"Such as?" Joffrey muttered.

"Such as working out the Targaryen girl's next move. Lord Varys?"

"The girl remains in Yunkai having liberated some two hundred thousand slaves, my Lord, and purchasing the loyalty of two thousand mercinaries. The second sons, if I remember correctly,"

"Two-hundred thousand slaves and two thousand sellswords do not compare to the countless trained warriors we have here," Cersei spoke.

"She has _ten_ thousand of those, as well, Your Grace," the Spider responded, reminding them all of their grim situation.

"And three dragons," Tywin continued, "so _what_ do we have?"

"If I may, my lord," Varys began, "the girl has travelled from Astapor to Yunkai, liberating both cities. I'd assume that Mereen would be next, it's the third great slave city in Slaver's Bay - she appears to have some sort of sympathy for those in chains,"

"Can't say I disagree," William spoke, "this buys us some time. She doesn't have enough Greyjoys left to send into battle and her Boltons and Freys are preoccupied. All we need to do is ensure that she'll need both her Second Sons and Unsullied to hold Mereen,"

"And what would you propose, brother?" Joffrey asked.

"Something to make sure she stays," he mused.

"Lord Varys, I'd like your birds in Mereen to find weaknesses in her leadership...in the city...to give us some idea of where we can increase the difficulty of her false reign," Tywin instructed and the powdered eunuch nodded silently, "now, is there any other news any of you wish to inform us of?"

"One more whisper," Lord Baelish piped up.

"Get on with it," the Hand spoke, impatiently as the rest of them.

"Robb Stark, your Lady Sansa's brother," he spoke at Joffrey, "has wed a foreigner from Volantis. Lady Talisa Maegyr, I believe,"

"Lord Eddard sends his apologies for not inviting His and Her Grace, due to the war," the quiet old Grand Maester Pycelle continued.

"Of course, of course," William thought, "I trust you will send back our congratulations, Grand Maester,"

"Yes, Your Grace," the man stuttered.

"Has the Lady Sansa been informed of her brother's marriage?" Joffrey asked.

"I spoke with Lady Stark this morning, my Prince," Baelish smiled.

"Did you now?" Joffrey rested his chin in his hand, passive aggression seeping out of his false smile.

"Yes, she is thrilled to hear of her brother's good fortune," Baelish smiled.

"I imagine so,"

"And what of your own wedding, Your Grace?" Littlefinger shifted the focus.

"As soon as time permits,"

"Ah, a change of heart, nephew?" Tyrion raised a brow.

"A change of circumstance," he smiled sadly, "make your plans. Consult me or my mother on anything you need. Don't worry my Princess with anything,"

"But you are the King," the Grand Maester began.

"And that was an order," he smiled at the old man.

As much as Joffrey hated to admit it, Pycelle was right - Will really didn't have time to be tasting pigeon pies and making seating arrangements. Joffrey himself could not care less for such things and probably wouldn't when the time came. _Speaking of which..._

"Now that Lady Sansa's brother has wed, is it not high time that her and I sealed our engagement? After the battle and all,"

"As much as I long to see you wed to young Sansa, my son, there is more important matters as of now," Cersei attempted. _More important?_

"More important than solidifying our support of the Northerners during their time of trouble?" he said, mimicking all of their reasons for niceties toward the Stark.

"Council is dismissed," Tywin announced; to everyone not named Lannister or Baratheon.

The faithful counsellors trailed out of the his grandfather's workplace; mumbling courtesies and leaving the room blanketed in tension.

"Now that we're in private, do you wish to continue?" the ever intimidating Hand of the King stared into the Prince's eyes, though Joffrey was more heart than head; leaving him stupidly unafraid.

"With my brother's wedding set to be a large affair, I am sure there is time for my...somewhat, smaller one?"

"After his Grace and the Princess Sarafine are wed, _your_ plans will be made and _not_ before," the man instructed. _Damn that,_ the Prince thought.

He wanted to secure her, keep her out of everyone else's reach. She was his, not in the way that William and Sarafine were; they belonged together. _But Sansa_ , he thought, _Sansa belongs to me_. Joffrey loathed hearing of her speaking with other men. Whoremongers like Baelish and muscular brutes like the Hound, however ugly the Prince believed him to be. Lady Sansa wasn't theirs. Lady Sansa was his; and he wanted everyone to know it.

Joffrey could barely decipher his own feelings for the girl; they were more up and down than the hills of the city in which they lived. One moment he wanted her, to make her smile like Will did his Princess. Others; he just wanted her to return to the Northern Castle where he found her. That he could not even understand.

 _Maybe it's just me,_ he thought, _maybe she's seen enough and decided not to want me. Maybe I've ruined it all like the Princess warned me._

However either of them felt, it did not matter. The small council meeting brought no progress for the Prince and he left it feeling far less victorious than when he had entered, unaware of the time he'd just bought and it's value in the world which was short on such a currency.

\- A/N -

Yo imma just give you all a minute to take in all that dialogue lmao

Nevertheless, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I haven't had time on my holiday to prep a second chapter for this week but all will be back to normal next week :) also, I'm publishing two chapters a week of my original story If Judas Went to Heaven on my wattpad profile (cerseiforpresident) so go check that out in the meantime if you like!

Let me know what you think; should Joffrey pursue Sansa or has he left it too late? Write your answer and any feedback in a review! Have an awesome week! x


	28. VII - Sarafine

The Princess stepped into the small hall, her deep emerald gown sweeping the floors behind her as she made way to her seat. She could not say she was looking forward to this particular dinner, or socialising with _one_ of those in attendance more so; though seeing her love would be nice.

The young Lady Margaery sauntered over to Sarafine, offering a curtsey and a curious smile that the princess could not trust.  
"Princess Sarafine, what a lovely gown that is. Loras, isn't the gown lovely?"  
"Lovely, indeed," the familiar Kingsguard complimented.  
"You are too kind, my Lady, Ser Loras," she responded as expected before addressing the other woman in the room, "Your Grace,"  
"It is so lovely to finally meet you, Her Grace has told me so much about you," Margaery gushed, something not genuine about her tone.  
"The gown suits you well, princess," her Queen interjected, "my son will be pleased to see it on you,"

Sarafine soon took her seat, facing Cersei and leaving the head of the table for her King when he arrived. He looked dashing as ever when he did, his brother striding in behind him. But someone else thought to say so aloud,  
"Your Grace," Lady Margaery rose, "you look well recovered from battle. Seeing you without your crown is a welcome sight,"

Cersei and Sarafine shared a quick look of annoyance. It had been no secret between the two since court after the battle that they felt a strong uneasiness about the young Tyrell. Her family may have come to aid in the battle, but it was almost as if the girl wished to stir up a war of her own among the royal court, having so boldly requested a betrothal to _her_ King. Sarafine hated that, though she remained courteous and allowed William's orders and their love do the talking.

He still looked somewhat weary, though better than he had after the battle. She'd rarely seen him in the days after, only briefly at court. His last few days had been occupied by meetings and making arrangements with his grandfather. Sarafine had expected that Lord Tywin's arrival would lighten William's load somewhat, though the King insisted he be involved in every decision made for his kingdoms.

 _At least we will have the nights together when we are wed_ , she dreamed of the times where they would not be interrupted, not be watched, not be anything but husband and wife, man and woman, soul and soul intertwined in the sheets they would share.

She rose out of her chair to greet him, allowing his lips to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. Part of her wished that it made Margaery angry, though she knew it was not right for her to think so. William was hers by oath and heart, _I do not need to compete with her_. The King took his seat and her hand across their corner of the table, their bond on show for all to see.

"Where is Lady Sansa?" Joffrey asked, seating himself next to the Princess and facing Margaery.  
"Resting in her chambers, I believe, my Prince," Sarafine responded, "she's feeling rather ill,"

Sarafine knew the words she spoke were not true. It wasn't that she herself was lying, but rather that Sansa had told her a lie and the princess had not believed it; though she recited it to the girl's betrothed anyway.

"Such a pity, I would love to meet her!" Margaery continued her flatteries, " _you_ must feel so blessed to be betrothed to such a beauty," she folded her hands together and stared the prince in the eyes. Sara looked away and to William instead, her hand still in his.

"Do you like King's Landing, Lady Margaery?" Cersei asked politely.  
"Oh, it is a wonderful city," she began, "much different to Highgarden, you shall all have to see it some day; there is _far_ more greenery than stone there, it's lovely...but the Capital is such an exciting place, Your Grace,"  
"Yes," the Queen replied curtly, "always something happening,"  
"Too much happening, more like," Will muttered, receiving a laugh from the youngest Tyrell and an awkward chuckle from her Kingsguard brother.  
"Yes, I can only imagine how exhausting that crown must be," the girl continued and Will gave a half smile, "Princess Sarafine should have quite the job ruling at your side, I don't envy-"  
"If I remember correctly, you requested the same job but a week ago," Sarafine interjected, unable to stand it.  
"You must forgive me, Princess, I was not aware that your betrothal to the King still stood through the war. The politics of it all is lost on me sometimes," she barely flinched as she spoke, reciting a speech she seemed to have had prepared.

 _The politics of it is not lost on you at all,_ Sarafine remarked in her head, _you know exactly what's going on and you've known it since long before you arrived here._  
"I understand completely," she smiled through her frustrations, "as His Grace said, too much happening at once to keep up with it all,"  
"It would be far better if there were nothing going on all together," Joffrey muttered before taking a sip of his wine, "Lady Margaery?"  
"Yes, my Prince?"  
"My mother mentioned that you have been partaking in some...charitable work," he sat forward, "do you care to elaborate for me?"

 _Oh, you're just perfect, aren't you?_ the Princess thought bitterly, _and bold attempts at seducing the eyes of my king and my brother, is that charitable too?_  
"The poor are people too, I believe, just like us-" the girl started.  
"There are some differences, I think you'll find," Cersei interrupted.  
"Silence, mother," Joffrey instructed, his eyes settled on the girl in front of him.  
"Joffrey," William warned.

The Princess shared another look with her Queen, with knowledge that they were thinking the exact same thing. Margaery wanted a reaction, and she was getting the precise one that she wanted out of the blonde Prince.

William's hand tightened around her own and she looked to him too, a sweet smile on his face as their dinner was served. The conversation was dull in the eyes of the Princess whilst they ate. Mostly, it consisted of Joffrey telling Margaery every detail of the Battle of Blackwater, specifically of how _valiantly_ he fought. Then her games continued.

"And do you still carry the scar?"  
"From the wolf?" Joffrey asked, placing more meat in his mouth and swallowing, "barely. Lady Sansa's pet is a beast though,"  
"I can imagine,"  
"I detest the thing, all huge and untamed," he continued muttering.  
"Thank the gods it were only a light mark it left behind," Cersei interjected.  
"You once told me that Kings should carry scars," William said, "do you still believe it so?"  
"Of course," she nodded.  
"Scars remind us of strength, persistence," Margaery smiled widely, grabbing William's attention, "and what scars do you carry, Your Grace?"

 _Don't show it to her_ , Sarafine begged in her mind, _that she is not worthy of._

"Quite enough," he responded, "and if the gods are just I shall gain no more,"  
"Yes, if they are just indeed,"

Sarafine could not say she had met anyone so forward as the young Tyrell. Loras had mentioned her a number of times, saying that Margaery would love to live in King's Landing and that she would be like a sister to the Dornish Princess; and now that she were here Sarafine could not distance herself far enough.

"Will you walk with me, Sarafine?" his voice brought her out of her thoughts.  
"Should we not wait for everyone to leave?" she asked, politely.  
"Excuse us," William announced, taking her hand and assisting her to her feet from her chair, leading her out of the silent room.

She would admit she was surprised by his sudden wish to leave, and his wish to take her with him.  
"Do you have more scars you wish for me to attend to?" she asked, somewhat as a joke. He laughed a bit and she put the dinner out of her mind. _I am his and he is mine._  
"I wanted to tell you something...I haven't had the chance to since the battle," he spoke, leading them out under the open sky of the Keep's courtyards.

It still felt like summer despite the arrival of the white raven so many moons ago. The air was still hot and the sky still clear, the breeze a kind solace. Sarafine shut her eyes for a moment, her King guiding her through the dark night once again. The light wind danced against her cheeks. _And how long before these winds are as deathly as dragon's breath?_

"Daenerys Targaryen didn't join her troops in battle...she rests in Yunkai, a slave city in Essos," Will informed.  
"Oh," she breathed, "why Yunkai?"  
"She has freed their slaves...it's the second city she's liberated. She's removed the chains from two hundred thousand people this time,"

 _Two hundred thousand?_ Sara repeated in her mind, _they don't fight, do they?_

"What does this mean for us?" she asked, unsure of what else to say. She tightened her grip around his arm, feeling his muscles shift with each step they took.

Debris still littered the Blackwater and its shores; parts of ships, pieces of armour, weapons, bodies. It wasn't a pretty sight nor smell, but the resulting victory had been satisfying enough for her to consider the mess a blessing.

"It means she's coming back. With more," he said, sadness in his voice.  
"Why are you telling me?" they stopped atop the courtyard, looking over it all. She rested her head against him.  
"You know that I can't lie to you...not telling you feels like lying," he exhaled.  
"The last time you took me on a night walk, you asked me to marry you," she remembered, her body tingling at the places he'd held her and her mind repeating the words he had spoke. _Forever and always, I am yours._  
"I did,"  
"What do you ask of me now?" she turned to face William.  
"To do so quickly," he laughed, no humour in him, "we do have a plan though,"  
"A plan? To fight her?" Sara began, "please don't tell me you plan to march on Yunkai,"  
"To fight her from within," he assured, "she'll soon arrive in Mereen, the third great slave city of Slaver's Bay,"  
"And what then?"

"She can't very well fight for Westeros if she's busy trying to keep her slaves free too," he began, "she wants their freedom and we have to make sure she cannot get it,"  
"William," she spoke, furiously.

 _How could you? They are not yours to rule!_

"If their freedom is assured ours is doomed," he tried to explain  
"They are _people_ ," she pulled herself away from him, unsure of what he was really planning.  
"And what of _my_ people?" he shouted, "what of the millions that rest under my reign? Those that fear the dragon and feel safe under the crowned stag? What of those that fought for my father, fought for me? Would you have them burn for their loyalty?" he questioned.  
"I would have them burn for what's right if it meant you and I alive," she tried. _What are you really fighting for, William?_  
"It won't," he asserted, "it's already in the works...an organisation of sorts to test her...stop her from getting what she wants,"  
"It is done then?"  
"More or less,"  
"What does your grandfather say of all this?" she looked back to the water. _Please, don't let her come here_ , she prayed.  
"He believes the worst is yet to come,"  
"And what do you believe?"  
"That he's right," he spoke, anger beneath his tone, "now I understand why my father hated the Targaryen's. She sent her men here...to kill us...to take what was ours, to take you. I can't tell you what that feels like," he reminded her.  
"I can," she said, "it might not be my Kingdom but it were my family and my King that she sent her men to kill. I think I'd have died regardless of any escape if something happened to you,"  
"Then why do you hate what I've planned?"  
"I hate that people will suffer,"  
"It is war, my love, people suffer regardless of what you or I decide," he spoke, calmer than before, "I'm sorry, Sarafine,"  
"It is not me you need apologise to," she continued.

The Princess could barely stand the sight of poverty in her own streets. And now her King planned to force it, somewhat, in the enemy city. _Can I live with this?_ she asked herself, _their suffering on my hands?_  
"I love you," he whispered, "I'm sorry that this is the only way,"  
"And you know that I love you,"  
"Can you forgive me?" he asked and she answered only with a kiss, for she did not know the truth of her answer.

The King's hands slid around her waist, holding her closely and making her forget it all.  
"I hope you know that I love you more than I hate this," she admitted and he kissed her again and again, wrapping her in his love. Soon, she'd forgotten all about before. _This is why I'm here,_ she reflected, _I'm here for him._

"Your Grace!" a voice called from the paths of the courtyard, running toward them rapidly. His lips pulled from hers and reality surrounded them again.  
"Speak," he commanded, turning to face the guard.  
"A raven! From the North!" the man panted.  
"At this hour?" he questioned, her hand in his.  
"Lord Stark wrote us today, Your Grace...the Bolton's have taken Winterfell."

\- A/N -

What do you think Will's plan is? Let me know in a review of this chapter!

Hope you enjoyed reading, lots of dialogue again but just as much happening haha :)


	29. VII - Cersei

_**CERSEI VII**_

The small council met in the Tower of the Hand again, rising at the arrival of the His Grace and Lord Tywin. The demeanour of both wasn't particularly pleasant in the eyes of the Queen, her son's eyes tracking the ground in front of him rather than looking at the faces of his advisors.

"Lord Hoster Tully has passed away amid the siege of Riverrun," he began.

"May the gods give him rest," Lord Varys spoke, politely.

"Aye," Will started, "this leaves Ser Edmure Tully as Lord of Riverrun _and_ Ser Brynden with a funeral to attend. He'll be dismissed for the month to say his farewells,"

"He is a Kingsguard," Cersei reminded him.

"And if Joffrey died while I were on the Throne and he in Casterly Rock, would you forbid me from attending his?" he spoke, anger in his tone.

"Of course not," was all she managed.

"The Blackfish is temporarily dismissed," her father announced, "the King is protected as he need be. Of course, there are more pressing matters at our hands. Lord Varys?"

"Winterfell remains in possession of the Boltons and the Starks are said to be on the march through the Wolfswood to Deepwood Motte to prepare for battle,"

"Battle?" Joffrey asked.

"The Boltons won't hold Winterfell without contest, my Prince,"

"Lord Varys, I ask that you write to Lord Eddard. Instruct him that all houses on the Eastern Coast of the North are to remain in their ancestral seats to defend the country," Will instructed.

"Yes, Your Grace," the eunuch nodded.

Cersei watched him walk, his pace slower than usual. Something hung over him, something heavy which weighed him down; physically and emotionally. She saw it. _You are a King, my son, show them what a King you are._

"Any news on the Targaryen?"

"She is making way for Mereen, last we heard, Your Grace. She'll have arrived within the next month,"

"And our arrangements with the masters?"

"Their _Sons of the Harpy_ are preparing for her arrival as planned, Your Grace. They will allow her an easy victory and entry to the city and begin the rest after she is somewhat settled,"

The Queen smiled, remembering the time her son had told her he believed he was no King at all. _"I'm an enabler, not a leader,"_ he had said, though he had lead this entire idea himself. She knew she were right in what she told him; he was born a leader, learning is only part of the journey and he had learnt well.

"Where do the plans sit for the Royal Wedding?" Tyrion asked.

"The guest list has been approved by Your Grace, all that is to be decided on that end is a date to place on the invites," Lord Baelish started.

"Within two moons," William announced, taking Cersei and almost every other council member aback.

"Two moons, Your Grace?" Pycelle questioned.

"Aye, two,"

"William, are you sure that there will be enough time?" Cersei worried at his haste.

"We're not preparing for battle, there's enough time," he began, "besides, it's not the pies and wines that I'm worried about. The Realm needs the marriage; not the celebration,"

"Well said, Your Grace," Tywin commented, "and Lady Margaery's betrothal?"

 _Don't bloody remind me_ , she snapped in her head. The Tyrells could not be trusted and Cersei Lannister knew it well. They smiled sweetly and wore the facade of their golden rose; though evil lurked in them and she smelt it the second they had stepped in her son's Throne Room. Save Ser Loras, of course, he had been loyal and was bound by oath to protect and serve William. _But so was Jaime to Aerys_ , she regretfully reminded herself.

"No decision has been made yet," Will announced.

"If I may, Your Grace," Cersei began cautiously, "what of your Uncle Jaime? Has there been any word on him?"

 _Remind him of his family_ , she thought, _remind him of what matters._

"Ser Jaime is but a few days ride from the Capital," her father informed, "he will miss the King's nameday celebrations, however,"

"Ah, yes," the Queen reminded herself.

Eighteen, he would be. In two short days, he was the adult she and her husband had raised. The adult who still felt like her baby boy, her _first_ boy, and the adult who should not yet have been wearing a crown or sitting a Throne, but did it well all the same. Though his expression indicated something were wrong and she longed to heal his sore heart.

"If that's quite all," Will spoke, "mother, I'd beg a word with you,"

She rose from her seat, exiting with him while the rest of the councillors uttered a "Your Grace" and continued their work under the hand of her father. Cersei took the arm of her son, pride in her eyes as she looked to his glum face.

"What troubles you, William?"

"She's not happy with me, mother," he looked to the ground again.

"Sarafine?" she asked, somewhat shocked, "why? Has something happened?"

"I told her about Mereen...about my plan, she didn't like it so much as I,"

"She has a kind heart," Cersei commented.

"And less room in it for me because of what I've done,"

"She will not love you any less for this," the Queen attempted to reassure.

"She already does, mother," he said, a calm anger in him.

"Why did you tell her about it?" she asked, curiously.

"She's to be my Queen...and much sooner than I thought. She has every right to know,"

"And you have every right to carry out the acts you have,"

"That doesn't make this easier," he near spat.

"I know,"

"Did father ever do things that you didn't like?"

"Oh, all the time," she remembered, nearly laughing at the memories.

"And?"

"Sarafine has loved you for far longer than I had loved Robert at your age. She knows you...you're her family. In time, it will be forgiven,"

"And if it isn't?"

"You plan to marry her in months and you fear her love for you is not strong enough to overcome a political decision?" she tested him, warily.

"It's not _just_ politics, it's war,"

"They are one in the same, in our case, my son,"

"I don't think that makes her like the enslaving of people any better," he laughed, bitterness in him. Cersei realised it then, _he hates his own plan, but he knows it's the only way_.

"Let me tell you something, William," she began, "I know that you love Sarafine, and you two have been luckier than most to have fallen for each other before your days as husband and wife if at all, but marriage will not always be royal banquets and midnight passions. It's not easy, not all the time,"

"I love her," he whispered, sadness emanating from him.

"As Robert loved me and I him, that doesn't mean that you'll agree on everything. And a man of your position has a lot to be agreed or disagreed upon,"

"Unfortunately for me," he muttered.

"Don't say that," she spoke sternly.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a King, and a good King at that. Your people prosper under your reign," she faced him, stopping them in their tracks.

"Our country is at war," he reminded.

"So _you_ can not be at war with yourself, William. _You_ are the strength of the people, my son,"

 _And we need you now, more than ever._

\- A/N -

Poor Will, he's having a bit of a rough time! What do you think of his Sons of the Harpy plan? Is it the only way to save their country? Let me know in a review!

Hope you've had a great week and that you have a lovely Christmas on Sunday (if you do celebrate!)! ❤️


	30. VII - William

Swords clanged around him, everywhere he looked one of his men contested one of hers. He saw the wretched Greyjoy kraken emblazoned on the breastplates of the enemy. _Ah, but you aren't in the water now_ , he thought, plunging his sword into the throat of the man- _no, traitor_ , in front of him.

Each one that came to fight him held the hope of becoming a Kingslayer, just like his Uncle, and he dashed their hopes each time, his blade splitting them open and spilling their blood all over the soil and sand beyond his gates. Just like his father, William _loved_ battle, and he realised it now. He revelled in the gore of the slaughter of traitors, not so much in that of his own men; but they were strong and so were he.

"You fight well, Your Grace," Bronn said from next to him, his blade meeting with a Greyjoy spear.

"You are too kind," the King responded, thrusting his sword into the gut of the same enemy, "I've only been training my whole life," he laughed and so did his sellsword as they continued the fight.

"Have you seen my brother?"

"Aye, his Hound protects him, but he has surprised us all with his skill,"

"There is some of my father in him, indeed," Will smiled, more to himself than anyone else, "how far is my grandfather?"

"Said to be close, Your Grace," the sellsword spun, kicking his foot into the stomach of a traitor and slicing his wooden spear in half with a swing of his sword, "he'll be here any moment, I imagine,"

"Good," he said with relief, "we'll need him,"

The King cut another enemy down.

 _Would my father be proud?_ he wondered, _or would he be ashamed that this has even come to battle?_ Will thought, looking up to the Seven Heavens for a moment before clashing swords with another Greyjoy and ending the traitor's life soon after.

 _No_ , Will thought, _he would understand. He knows what Targaryen's can be like better than any. If he were still here, I imagine we would fight together. Side by side, father and son, King and heir._

William found that his grandfather's host, made up of Lannisters and Tyrells, was as welcome a sight as any. They overwhelmed the Greyjoy's within minutes, it seemed, and it felt as if the King were watching his battle rather than participating in it from then on. He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he saw his chambers just as they had been when he had fallen asleep.

The Battle of Blackwater haunted his dreams, tainting his slumber every night since the enemy had arrived at his shores. But the images his subconscious projected to him felt more like memories than inventions, likely because they were. It seemed Will could not remember much of it outside of his sleep, it had all flashed by in a blur of dead men and stray weapons. And he rejoiced in it all the same.

But today was not about the battle. Today was the King's eighteenth nameday. He was a man now, by all but his virginity. _Soon_ , he thought, _soon indeed._

"Your Grace?" he heard from the other side of his door.

"Come in, grandfather," he instructed, rising from his mattress and placing a loose cotton undershirt over his head, leaving it untied at the neck.

"Happy nameday, grandson," Tywin smiled at him; his legacy, his flesh and blood. _I hope to make him proud, too._

"Thank you," he smiled, "do you bring news?"

"I do bring news," the older man confirmed, strutting around the room, "the Stark force have arrived at Deepwood Motte overnight and have asked for your word on their plan to lay siege to Winterfell and fight out the Boltons,"

"Why my word?" Will asked, somewhat confused.

"You are the King," Tywin reminded as if William had been oblivious the whole time.

"I'm not of the North," he shrugged, moving away from his bed.

"No, the North is of _your_ Seven Kingdoms. Do you consent?"

"I don't see why not," Will seated himself at his table as a servant laid down breakfast.

"You may need the Northerners upon the arrival of Daenerys Targaryen," his grandfather suggested.

"Well, not if she doesn't arrive, grandfather," the King raised a brow, biting into an apple.

"William, we do not know for sure how long she will remain in Mereen,"

"Long enough," he insisted, "tell the Starks they are allowed to lay siege for up to six moons. If they do not have the castle in their possession by then, they need to march back to Deepwood Motte to prepare their host for the _true_ battle," he instructed and took another bite, before sipping on his water.

"Yes, Your Grace," Tywin Lannister bowed curtly and left the King in his chambers with his thoughts.

Servants came to dress him in his newest clothes, made especially for the feast he was to host in the courtyard today. Every lord, lady, knight and commander had been invited and every one would attend to celebrate his Grace; they loved him now. Truly loved him. He had proven himself as their King in the battle, even if his mighty grandfather has assisted; it was William who lead the fight and William who defended the city and the Realm that contained it.

The King was clothed in gold and black, the colours of his house, with a matching black velvet sash over his right shoulder in similar fashion to his brother. The embroidery on his silks was the finest he'd ever worn, sewn to resemble a beautiful pattern of lions and stags. His crown rest atop his head as it had so many times before, the topaz stone in its center glistening in the light of the autumn sun that beat down on his grounds.

"I now present to you William of the houses Baratheon and Lannister; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," the royal announcer called as he stepped to his seat at the High Table above his subjects. He rose a glass to them all and sat, allowing them to commence their chatter and chuckling once again.

"You look every part the Queen, my lady," he told her while she sat at his side at the High Table, the way she would every feast and every tourney when they were wed.

"Happy nameday, Will," she smiled at him as he kissed her hand.

She was truly exquisite. The way she sat and gazed with wonder at everything around her, the way she smiled and the way she spoke. The words she used and the way she said them were enough to make him come undone and let down every wall he'd ever built around himself. And she was his.

"I have a gift for you, waiting back in the keep," she told him.

"I don't wish for a gift,"

"I wish to give you one," she smiled softly, convincing him to accept.

"Maybe for my next nameday you will give me a son," he hoped, knowing she had it in her.

"Maybe," she smiled at him, his hand holding hers as warmth strong enough to melt any winter radiated from her, "I am glad to hear that we will be wed soon,"

"As am I, princess," he sipped his wine, "I'll have to get used to calling you Your Grace, however,"

"Oh, Will, you know there is no need," she laughed.

"Your Grace," the sultry voice of Lady Margaery chirped.

"My lady," Will let go of his princess' hand and stood to greet the Tyrell, uneasiness filling him where comfort had just been a moment ago.

"Are you enjoying your nameday?"

"Yes, my lady, are you? Is the feast to your liking?" he spoke awkwardly, making every attempt to ignore the _plunging_ neckline of her gown.

"Very much, Your Grace, the wine flows red and sweet. I'm glad to see that food from the harvest in Highgarden has made its way to our tables here in the Capital," she smiled, turning back over the feast.

"Has it now?" he began, "Lady Margaery, I don't believe I've yet met your grandmother, the Lady Olenna,"

"Truly, Your Grace? I imagine she would love to speak with you when you have the chance, unfortunately she is not yet in King's Landing with us,"

"I see," he sipped his wine again, "and have you spoken to my brother?"

"I saw Joffrey just a moment ago, the Prince looks _fine_ in his silks today, as do you,"

"Forgive me, Lady Margaery, I meant my _youngest_ brother," he laughed uncomfortably, referring to Tommen.

"I'm afraid not, Your Grace, if you'll excuse me," she spoke, equally as awkward.

"As you will," he raised a hand in his sweet youngest brother's direction before she curtseyed and let him be.

 _What in seven hells is she doing speaking with Joffrey? And where is Lady Sansa?_ he thought, looking over to his current heir and his never ending smirk in Lady Margaery's direction, _damn it, Joff, what are you doing?_

"Have you seen the Lady Sansa at all today, princess?"

"She remains ill, I am told," Sarafine spoke, her focus in the same place as William's. They watched as Margaery strolled over to Joffrey who rose from his seat and took her on his arm. Cersei whispered something to Sarafine that Will could not quite hear, but it became unimportant to him as soon his brother and the Tyrell were out of sight, though certainly not out of mind.

"It would appear that Lady Margaery has forgotten which brother she wishes to be betrothed to," Sarafine quipped.

"Meaning?"

"Nothing," she sighed, drinking her wine again.

"Do you not like Lady Margaery?" Will asked, unsure of his princess's stance on the matter.

"I would not ask my opinion," she looked upon his people who would soon be hers also.

"It's not an opinion," he near snapped, "I just want to know,"

"I don't particularly care for Lady Margaery," Sarafine spoke in a low voice, "Your Grace,"

"Are you angry with me?"

"I'm not angry with you," she continued to look the other way.

"Then what is wrong, Sarafine?" he gripped her arm, searching her face for an answer. She pulled it away from him gently, but the motion felt ever as cruel.

"Nothing," she drank again, "are you enjoying your name day?"

"Somewhat less than I thought I would," he said, frustratedly.

"I'm sorry, Will," she began, "I don't mean to-"

"A toast to His Grace, my brother, William Baratheon!" Joffrey's voice called into the crowds, his _apparent_ lady at his side upon his quick return to the feast, "may his reign be long and prosperous!"

"Aye," the guests chanted and William smiled awkwardly, raising his hand in thanks before looking back to his princess.

"You have guests to attend to, Will, not me," she rose from her seat, "if I may be excused, I wish to check on the Lady Sansa in her chambers,"

Her tone crushed him, enough for his only response to be a solemn nod as he watched her depart his presence and leaving an empty seat next to him.

"What burdens you, my son?" Cersei adjusted herself into the Queen-to-be's chair.

"You _know_ what," he muttered, sipping on his own glass of wine.

"The Lady Margaery just makes her uncomfortable, is all," his mother confirmed his fears.

"It would seem so,"

"Give her time, William," she begged.

"Yes, because I have so much of that to give," he spoke bitterly, "I'm sorry, mother,"

"You need not apologise," she started, "go see her this evening, would you?"

"Your mother's right," Tywin said from the King's other side, "you should go see her,"

"Your Grace, a gift from the House Tyrell," a servant spoke, averting his attention from the matter.

That evening, he found himself not in his princess' chamber, but instead his brother's. The feast raged on, though he wanted no part in it, feeling utterly disappointed in what should have been one of his better days as of late.

"I don't know what to do, Joff," he sat in a small metal chair.

"And you're asking me?"

"You seem to be having plenty of luck lately," he commented.

"You don't approve," Joff laughed a bit.

"Lady Margaery isn't to be your wife, you know that," he reminded, frustrated with the change in topic.

"Yes, I'm betrothed to the _beautiful_ Lady Sansa Stark,"

"Then why must you dishonour her?"

"You came to ask for my advice, if I remember correctly," Joffrey turned out to his window to look upon the courtyards.

Will inhaled a deep breath, holding his tongue from responding to his brother's sharp words.

"I fear that every step I make as a King is becoming a step away from my Queen,"

"She's not your Queen, yet,"

"She will be, sooner than ever, it seems,"

"Then what of it? You remain King and she, as you said, will become your Queen shortly,"

"I don't want to have that kind of marriage," he spoke, harshly.

"You're a King, William. You don't get a choice,"

"It's funny, isn't it? People always like to remind me that I am a King and that it's all up to me, that the choice is mine...choices are always already made for me by the throne I sit on and the crown I wear," he muttered, angrily.

"Would you rather be a peasant in the streets?"

"It seems they are freer than I will ever be," he realised, "I always thought that being King meant that I'd have all the freedom and that it would be mine to do whatever with...I'm just now learning that I've been a prisoner all along,"

"To the prisoners of gold and glory," Joffrey raised a glass and Will did too, drinking the wine with his brother.

"I won't have her hate me, Joff, I can't,"

"Then go to her, brother,"

When he arrived at her chambers, he saw the redness in her eyes and the stains on her cheeks.

"I love you," he confessed again and she buried her head into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her.

"I'm so scared, Will," she started, her tears soaking his velvets.

"Me too, my love," he breathed into her hair and let a tear of his own fall from his face.

\- A/N -

Happy New Year everyone! I hope that it's a good one for all of you and that you continue reading/enjoying my works :) You made the end of 2016 such a wonderful time for me - thank you so much!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though things are looking a bit on the downside for poor Will at the moment :( Let me know what you think he should do about his situation with Sarafine in a review and don't forget to let me know if you liked this chapter!


	31. VII - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY VII**_

"This is wonderful, truly my Prince. Such a fine weapon," Lady Margaery gushed of Joffrey's new crossbow, "have you hunted with it yet?"  
"No," he admitted, frustratedly, "William doesn't wish us to enter the Kingswood whilst the war continues,"

Joffrey had found that Lady Margaery was as welcome a sight as any since her arrival in King's Landing. She possessed an image that was likely envied by many, her figure the perfect balance of slender and curved. Her hair wasn't as bright as the Auburn his Stark girl carried, but its tousles and curls framed her face perfectly as if her skin were a canvas and her features the artwork upon it.

The neglect he had suffered from his _true_ lady had been beyond frustrating. He scarcely saw her now and feared he would soon forget the blue of her eyes and the fire of her mane. Everyone claimed she were ill, though when he made attempts to visit her, she declined him entry and they remained in their hostile silence. _Margaery, on the other hand,_ he thought, _what a wife she would be._

"I imagine you're a fantastic hunter," she continued to marvel at the details of the weapon, pleasing him in every sense but one. The Tyrell had proved a satisfactory distraction for the prince from his other affairs. He saw her nearly every day now, and he had nearly forgotten titles that many times, "did your father teach you?" she asked, doe eyes searching his own.  
"Somewhat," Joff deflected. In truth, the Prince had never been on a _real_ hunt. _Hunts were for William, the firstborn and the heir. The man,_ Joff thought of his father bitterly.

"Have you met the Lady Sansa yet?" Joff asked, curiosity burning. _Is it only me she wishes to decline?_ he wondered, _or is everyone as unwelcome as each other?_  
"I have not," she answered, "the Princess Sarafine has passed on Sansa's regrets at not being able to welcome me to the city, however. I do wonder what the poor girl is so ill with,"  
"As do I," Joff thought.

He would admit, he felt slightly better that Sansa hadn't seen to Margaery, though she was only new. Joff was not. She had known him so long as she had known Sarafine or Cersei and still remained in regular contact with them; _does she despise me that much?_

A fist rapped against his chamber door, signalling the ending of his time with his newfound solace.  
"Prince Joffrey, I'm here to escort you to His Grace's chambers," the kind voice of another Tyrell bled through the walls.  
"Thank you, Ser Loras. You may enter," Joff allowed, rising from his seat and placing the crossbow out of Lady Margaery's hands and against a column beside them.

The walk to William's chambers was short and pleasant, consisting of mostly small talk with Ser Loras. Margaery always talked about her brother and his gallantry, even though Joff had seen it for himself for years. Even Sansa seemed to fancy him somewhat. _Must I wear a suit of golden armour to please her?_

Upon entering the room, Joffrey found his mother and Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen seated on either side of her, and a tailor with various silks and fabrics on a rack next to him. William stood in breeches and boots in front of a mirror, his torso bare and toned.  
"Brother," he welcomed, stepping toward him, "I trust you are well,"  
"Aye, apologies if I am late," Joff offered.  
"Not at all, sit,"

The King's chambers were bigger than his own, Joffrey noted. _That's to be expected,_ he thought. Every other time he'd been in the room, he'd been too clouded by his emotions to notice its grandeur. The walls were high and the archways to the balcony beautifully carved. The silks over his bed were nicer still, rich furs also decorating the end of the mattress. Joffrey wondered what things would be like had he been the first son as he watched the tailor carry various assortments of clothing to his King.

 _I'd be the most powerful man in all of the Seven Kingdoms,_ he thought, _maybe then I could choose to have Lady Margaery for myself, or maybe I'd be wed to Sarafine,_ he pondered, not disappointed with either of the options.

"Has the Princess had her gown fitted?" William asked.  
"Not finally," Cersei responded, swilling the wine in her glass around, "she will look quite the sight on the day though, from the fittings she's had so far,"

The King smiled a sad smile and Joffrey felt for him somewhat. _Every step I make as King feels like a step away from my Queen,_ he had said, _maybe it's not such a desirable position after all_. William seemed to lean toward the Baratheon colours, favouring a fabric of gold cloth with black velvet embroideries of both his sigils and that of his wife-to-be; the sun and spear of House Martell.  
"Do the Martell's make way for the Capital, Your Grace?" Joffrey asked, politely.  
"Last I heard, they had docked at Cape Wrath with plans to sail on to Storm's End and travel on the Kingsroad from there,"  
"A long journey," the Prince remarked.  
"A safe one," Will said, "you may leave us," he told the tailor who scurried away with his fabrics, the King's favourite draped over his left shoulder.

William walked to his bed, throwing an undershirt over his head.  
"It's said that the Targaryen is quite close to Mereen, apparently she'll reach it within a week,"  
"Is that good?" he asked, unsure. Will's plan seemed feasible enough to him, though he wasn't convinced he liked it all that much. The King had mentioned his Princess' disdain at the idea, though it didn't bother Joffrey all that much and the plan was, as far as he knew, going ahead.  
"That, I can't say," William halted in his place, "I don't want to speak of this here," he tilted his head toward their younger siblings, "you still have not seen Sansa, my princess tells me?" the King inquired.  
"More she will not see me, brother,"  
"She's ill, Joffrey," his mother reminded, assurance no where to be found in her tone.  
"Yes, I'm well aware of that," he spoke harshly.

"Your Grace," Lancel Lannister's voice called through the door.

 _What now?_ Joffrey groaned in his mind.  
"Enter, Lancel," Cersei called. Tommen and Myrcella sat up straight.  
"Do you bring news, cousin?" William asked, impatiently.

Lancel panted and attempted the announcement as best he could,  
"It's Ser Jaime, Your Grace, he's returned. He's at the city gates," Cersei and the children rose from their seats, her Grace beaming with as much joy as her smaller companions.  
"Send him in," Will said, with a great smile.

\- A/N -

Guess who's back, back again (Jaime) lmao

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Do you think Joffrey is getting too close to Lady Margaery or that Sansa is being too harsh on him? Let me know in a review :)

Also, if you haven't checked it out already, I've opened a One Shot & Preference book for Game of Thrones on my wattpad, cerseiforpresident, and I published the first one shot yesterday! Requests, as at the time of publishing this, are open :)

Have an awesome weekend!


	32. VIII - Sarafine

_**SARAFINE VIII**_

Baelor's Great Sept was empty but for them. Every announcement an echo and every whisper a risk, though she was happy to be there for the most part.

It had been William's idea that the Royal Family make a visit to plan for the wedding, though this time they made their way in litters for safety. The building felt different this time; maybe because they were here to plan for her, not pray for everyone. She liked it, and so did her King. He held her on his left arm and his mother on the right as they strolled about the steps and looked around at it all.

"It's a great honour to be wed in Baelor's Sept," Cersei reminded them both. The Queen had been married there herself and cited it as one of her favourite days she'd lived, "only Royals and their families are bound in matrimony here. First, there was your father and I, now you two, and likely Joffrey and Lady Sansa also, followed by Tommen,"  
"And the Lady Margaery," William said, somewhat regretfully.  
"And the Lady Margaery," Cersei smiled, not a hint of joy in her as she looked down to the centre of the room where Sansa stood with Tommen and Myrcella and her Prince stood with the Tyrell girl, arm in arm, "it does appear that she prefers Joff, I must say," she laughed.

William said nothing.  
"Well, it's at least nice to have Lady Sansa back to health," the Princess offered, knowing that her only illness was rejection and hurt from he who was supposed to keep her from it all.  
"Yes, nice indeed," the King muttered, looking at nothing in particular.

It was also lovely to have Ser Jaime back in the Capital with his golden armour and milk-coloured cloak that placed him at William's side. Sarafine had always felt safest when Jaime was around; Kingslayer or not, he was loyal to his family and would defend them to the grave. Lancel pranced around somewhere too, staying silent after Joffrey's very loud orders to do so.

Since receiving word of her blood family's travels, she had remembered that her family she had come to know and love in King's Landing were as familiar with them as she. She only vaguely remembered the face of her father, Prince Doran, but she still heard his soft voice in her slumber some nights. Her brother, Prince Trystane, was near a man grown now and would look greatly different to the boy she farewelled when leaving Sunspear. Her uncle Oberyn was a distant memory also, tales of his skill as a warrior the only thing she really knew of him. His bastard daughters had grown up with her for her time in Dorne, most of them older than her. They had played in the Water Gardens nearly every day, splashing naked in the pools to relieve themselves of the Southern summer heat that she had still felt in the Capital for most of her adolescence. She hoped they would attend too, with Oberyn's paramour Ellaria who had always been as kind as a mother to Sarafine after her true mother's passing.

She wondered if they'd be proud of the woman she had become. _Will my father tell me I'm beautiful like my mother? Will my brother tell me he looks forward to my reign?_ They hadn't seen her in so long that she worried they would not recognise her for the girl who said goodbye to them so long ago, then again, she would likely not recognise most of them either.

Sarafine was well aware that things could've been very different between the Martells, Lannisters and Baratheons - had all their leaders not cooperated. The execution of false knight Ser Gregor Clegane for Elia and her children's murders had brought Oberyn satisfaction when he swung his sword; but her father had wanted Dorne to _truly_ enter the Realm again through marriage. There was great fear among her people to send off another of their own for royalty, but Doran trusted Robert and swore his fealty like every other Lord in the Realm. She was grateful to carry the Dornish blood into the line of royal succession, but knew she had a big duty in doing so; and eyes watching all the while.

Cersei sauntered off to go speak with her other children, leaving the King and Queen-to-be in their own presence.  
"I've always wondered what it will be like to stand atop these steps and watch your lord father walk you to me," he said, "now it's closer than ever,"  
"Indeed," she smiled, "I've always worried that I'll trip on my way up," she admitted, honestly, eliciting a quiet laugh from him.  
"You won't, I've never seen you trip in my entire time of knowing you," he smiled, "every eye will be on you then, as you step out of your princess title and take on that of Queen instead,"  
"I best watch myself then," she jested, looking over the space. Seven hundred people would fill it in some few weeks time, watching as the Realm seals it's strongest bond and as Will and Sarafine solidify everything they felt for one another.

His nameday had been less pleasant than she'd hoped and she found herself disappointed in her actions at his feast, though some of her regret melted away as she watched Margaery laughing with Joffrey while Sansa conversed somewhat plainly with Myrcella.

She moved to speak with her as Will began discussions of some matter of war with Jaime and Tyrion.  
"Lady Sansa," Sarafine began, looping an arm through her friends, "may I beg a word?"  
"Of course, Princess," she smiled slightly and Myrcella ran along to her mother.  
"I'm told your wedding will be held here also, my lady,"  
"I believe so too," sadness emanated from her and she looked at the ground.

Sarafine couldn't be sure of everything that was happening with Joff and his lady, though one thing was certain; Sansa was no longer the girl she was upon her arrival in the Capital. It seemed that her Northern family had returned home and her looks of wonder and adoration at the world had disappeared with them.

The girl used to marvel at the sights around her: the way Southern women dressed and the knights in their extravagant armour, at the tourneys and the feasts and the people and the place. Now, it were as if she had seen it all a hundred times before and that it was something less each time.

"You are feeling better, I take it," Sarafine switched the subject.  
"Somewhat, yes," she said, her sad eyes looking to Joffrey who turned away at the eye contact, "my Prince doesn't seem all that bothered,"  
"Maybe you should see to him," Sarafine suggested, "you might find that he is happy to spend time with you,"  
"Or another," she indicated the Tyrell.  
Sarafine breathed and whispered, "I don't really like her either,"  
"Princess,"  
"I'm confiding in you, Sansa," she turned to face her, "she is dangerous. Only you can get her away from him, you need to-"  
"Princess, my Lady," her wicked voice started again and Sarafine turned to face her, dread in her bones.  
"Lady Margaery, how lovely it is to have you here with us today," the princess said through a false smile.  
"This is my first time in the Sept and it is truly nothing short of wonderful. Have you visited before, Lady Sansa?" she asked the red-headed girl.  
"Once, yes," she half-smiled.

The princess remembered what nearly happened to Sansa that day and thought best to change the topic of conversation, again.  
"Have you been shown around? There's many things to see in the Sept besides the statues of the Seven," Sarafine pointed to the Warrior who towered above them with his two crossed swords. _Defend us, please._  
"I have, Princess. Prince Joffrey has been so kind to show me where each Targaryen is buried within the Sept," she informed and Sarafine glanced to Lady Sansa, who shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her betrothed. The Princess felt sad at that, "history is _truly_ such a fascinating subject, don't you think?"  
"Yes," she smiled politely and spoke proudly, "my King takes great lessons from our history. We both believe there's no greater teacher,"  
"Indeed," the girl tilted her head, "you must be so excited for your wedding day,"  
"Of course, I've waited a very long time to marry William. There's nothing I've looked forward to more," Sarafine felt odd, as if she had to defend or prove herself. She deflected the attention, "I'm sure you also look forward to your own wedding in this very Sept,"

Margaery smiled at that and it were not a smile that Sarafine had liked.  
"We will all be sisters, soon," she stepped between the girls and linked their arms with her own, taking the Princess and her Northern friend aback, "the wives of the Baratheon men. Though, I'll admit mine is more a boy now," she smiled, nearly laughing.  
"Tommen will grow to be as strong as his brothers," Sarafine spoke, nearly too harsh.  
"I'm sure you will find yourself very lucky to have him," Sansa spoke politely, "he is a kind boy and has a wonderful family,"  
"So true, Lady Sansa. You will be just as blessed with your royal match," the Princess continued, "Lady Margaery, Lady Sansa," she nodded, disconnecting her arm and taking leave to practice walking into the Sept as she'd been instructed.

Sansa visited her chambers that afternoon. The Northern girl wore her hair down, with two small braids on either side to keep it out of her face in the autumn breezes of the city. Sarafine noted she had discarded the Southern hairstyles that she had loved so dearly when she first took up residence in the Tower of the Hand.  
"Did you enjoy your time in the Sept today, Sansa?" Sara began. The girl's only response was a tilt of the head and a suspicious raise of the brow, "you did not,"  
"The Sept is lovely but the company, not so much," she confided, plucking a raspberry from the bowl on the table they sat at and eating it.  
"Why, I am offended," the Princess jested and Sansa laughed, a welcome sight and sound.  
"You know who,"  
"Lady Margaery isn't my favourite person either," Sara breathed deeply, frustration at the thought of the Tyrell seeping out in her tone.  
"She is Joffrey's favourite, it would seem," Sansa commented.  
"No one likes how close they are, Sansa. I don't trust her," Sarafine admitted, "something about her doesn't seem right...doesn't seem true," she thought, unable to put a finger on what it was.

Sansa looked away sadly.  
"He barely said two words to me, an expected my lady was all I remember," the Stark fiddled with her hands while she spoke, looking down at them in disappointment at the status of her betrothal, "he's mine, but he doesn't want to be,"  
"He _does_ want to be, my Lady," Sarafine tried to assure, not certain of how much truth she was speaking. _Is Joffrey's heart so fickle?_  
"Then why does he insist on casting me aside?" Sansa spoke frustratedly.  
"The Tyrell," Sara attempted to explain, "she's making every attempt to distract him and make it look that way. I swear to you, Sansa, I will do all in my power to remove her and get things back to normal,"  
"Remove her?" Sansa raised her brows, seemingly alarmed.  
"Send her back to Highgarden, arrange another betrothal, I don't know," Sara thought. _There has to be a way,_ she wished, _she's getting in too deep._  
"Send her to Essos, if you can. Unless she can bat her eyes at my prince from across the Narrow Sea," Sansa said bitterly.  
"Believe me, I'd like that very much too,"  
"I miss Winterfell," the girl said, solemnly, "I miss my family, the Great Keep, the Godswood and the summer snows,"  
"Summer is gone for now," Sarafine reminded herself as well as her friend.  
"Winterfell is not," a tear ran down the porcelain skin of her face, "I never knew how lovely it was until I left it. All I saw was clouded skies and dark stone walls. But that was my home, and I loved it. I just didn't know that then," she wiped her face with her sleeve, as if ashamed to reminisce, but Sarafine knew.  
"Do you want to go home, my Lady?" she asked, her voice quieting.  
"I don't have a home anymore," Sansa fought back more tears.  
"Your family will take back Winterfell, Sansa," the princess consoled, "I have every faith. The Boltons cannot hold it against the entire Northern host,"  
"I hope not," she said, "if you'll excuse me, Princess, I'd like to visit the Godswood,"  
"As you will," Sarafine bid the girl farewell.

 _When did everything get so glum?_ she wondered, wishing to go back to the Hand's Tourney when her biggest problem was Sansa's petty and soon-ending jealousy. Her King had been only a crown prince, her country had been at peace and she had been safe. Now, their reality could not be further.

She saw to Cersei that evening to discuss something of importance about the wedding, though she was conflicted on what to do about Sansa. Sarafine was only the Princess of Dorne, still. Cersei was the Queen Regent, the only one she could go to with true power. William didn't have time for this sort of thing, sad as that may be.

"So, the High Table will of course be you and Will in the middle," the Queen moved the chips along the board, names and sigils on each, and every move as important as the other, "then, we will have your family: your father, uncle and brother," she moved more chips along the birds-eye view sketching of the wedding feast table arrangements, "to your side, on this table,"  
"That should suffice, yes," Sara agreed.  
"And on Will's side, there'll be my father," she moved the chip with the _Hand of the King_ badge fashioned on it, "myself, my little brother, Joffrey, Sansa, Myrcella, Tommen and Margaery," she spoke, the last name with heightened contempt.  
"Cersei," Sarafine stopped her.  
"What is it, little dove?" the Queen Regent took the Queen-to-be's hands in her own.

She breathed deeply, _don't hate me for this, my lady,_ she hoped.

"I'm worried for Lady Sansa."

\- A/N -

Poor Sansa, and poor Sara :(

What do you think Sansa's next move should be? Do you think there's anything Sarafine can actually do to help her? Let me know in a review!

Hope you have an awesome week and that you enjoyed this chapter :)


	33. VIII - Cersei

**_CERSEI VIII_**

Cersei watched from her solar as Lady Sansa took a stroll in the gardens with the young and untrusted Tyrell. They walked ever-so-slowly, mirroring each other's grace and elegance, no doubt speaking false courtesies and gossiping to one another.

She would admit, she was surprised that it were Margaery at Lady Sansa's side. Had someone behaved like the Tyrell had in front of her Robert, Cersei would've been mortified and kept her distance; getting her revenge from afar. Though, in saying that, revenge didn't seem Sansa's style. She saw the Stark smile once or twice.

 _Do Varys' birds hide in the gardens?_ she wondered, making a point to find out what was being discussed one way or another.

 _Or am I just paranoid?_ she thought, _an over-protective mother? They all have to marry one day._ And true as it may be, she hated the idea of Margaery wedding her sweet young Tommen. He was good, innocent, kind. She only wore these traits as a facade.

Though everyone still called her the Queen Regent, she was only Queen Mother now, in truth. William was of age to rule the Kingdoms on his own, though he needed her all the same. He was strong, but he was young. He'd carried his Realm through almost a year of war now.

 _My poor son,_ she mused _._ Not only had he suffered a great loss, as every Prince-turned-King, but he'd inherited a fragile nation that only he could hold together. But it was heavy, and sometimes pieces of it crumbled away and slipped off. _It's not your fault, my love,_ she hoped he'd understand, _this war was never meant for you to fight_.

"Where is my son?" she called to a handmaiden.

"He is walking the battlements, Your Grace," the girl informed.

"With anyone?"

"No, Your Grace."

"Tell him that I wish to see him. Here," she commanded and off the girl went to fetch the King.

The autumn chill had begun to cool the Queen's skin, reminding her of yet another of the many problems at hand. She reached for a shawl; the same deep red as her wine.

It had also dawned on Cersei that she'd been without her royal husband Robert for a whole year. _If you could see us now,_ she spoke to him.

Whether he heard her from the Seven Heavens or not, she could not say, but she spoke to him nearly every night before she slept. She'd tell him about her day, about their children, about the war, about how she missed him more than anything in the world. The last one was often followed by quiet tears and pleas for help. _Guide us,_ she asked him. The Seven had never _really_ answered her prayers, but she'd hoped that maybe if Robert were there with them, he would answer her instead. Or force the Seven to meet her wishes, threatening the gods with his war-hammer. She liked that idea, and laughed at it sometimes, but it still made her sad to think of him. 

"His Grace, King William, to see you, Your Grace," Bronn spoke through the door all too formally.

"Come in, my love," she called to her firstborn through the door. It opened and shut just as quickly.

"They tell me you were out for a walk," she commented, leaving her eyes on the gardens where the two girls had been.

"It's nice to feel the sun on your face, I've found," he stepped to her side and followed her line of vision, "the Throne Room grows colder and darker every day, it seems."

"As does the city," she mused.

"You wanted to see me," he raised a brow as she turned to him. _So much of him lives in you,_ she thought again.

"It's about Lady Margaery," she started, cautiously.

"Mother," he warned, stepping away from her. The King made way for his mother's wine, pouring himself a glass and sipping a large amount at once. She remained silent, for fear of angering him to the point that he would not hear her argument. His hostility toward the topic was evident, "I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"I _want_ you to tell me that you're not granting her a betrothal to Tommen," she spoke, demandingly.

"You know I can't do that!" he put his glass down with force and she jumped slightly.

"Why?" she shouted back, drawing toward the window the moment that the following silence ensued. She turned away and spoke to Robert again in her mind.

 _Oh, my love, show him the way,_ she asked him, _it is better to fight those without than those within. Tell him, tell him what to do._

Cersei turned her head slightly and watched her son as he drank again, calmer than his last effort. He looked at her blankly and then turned back to the ground, allowing the silence to continue from his end.

"You're the King, William," she near whispered.

"Do you think I've forgotten?" he said, contempt filling his tone, "I swore to gift the Tyrells with anything they wanted and this the gift that they named, mother."

"Marriage isn't a gift, it's an alliance," she attempted to explain what he already knew, feeling more deflated and defeated with every word.

"And what of their help in the battle? A gift, also?" William set down his drink again and stepped toward her, "I can't go back on what I said."

"Yes, you can!" she shouted.

 _What is here that he cannot see?_ her mind screamed, _the Tyrells are nothing but danger. You fight your enemies, William, you don't crawl into bed with them! No, no, no!_

"Why do you insist on defying me here?" he shouted, angrier again.

A fit of sobs overcame the Queen's flawless facade of regality.

 _Robert, please, help him! Make him see!_ she cried. Her sons arms fell around her as she cried, breathlessly and aimlessly. Every time she closed her eyes, it were as if she could see Margaery ripping her boys from her, Tommen and Joffrey both. And when she opened her eyes, she could hardly see the Blackwater and the gardens through her tears.

He held her as she sank to the ground, her knees faltering beneath her and body shaking with fear of their future.

"I only want what is best for you, what is best for us; our family," she whispered into him.

"One thing at a time, mother," he said, running his hands over her arms.

 _I shouldn't be the one crying,_ she thought, _you're my son. It is I who should comfort you. This is not your job,_ she felt guilt come over her.

"I'm sorry, William."

"It's quite alright," he spoke calmly, again, "I should apologise too. Shouting at you was wrong."

"Your Grace," Jaime's voice sounded through the door.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she insisted, permitting William to accept the company.

"Come in," he spoke, helping her to her once again steady feet. She tapped gently at her cheeks to dry the tears. _What a sight I must be._

"Forgive me for interrupting, Will. My father has convened a meeting of the small council," her brother announced.

"On what grounds?" Cersei demanded.

"Word from Essos, I believe," he informed.

 _Wonderful,_ she thought bitterly.

\- A/N -

Hey loves! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I find it really interesting to explore the more outwardly emotional side of Cersei and I hope you did too :) Should William listen to Cersei? And also, what do you think is the word from Essos? Let me know in a review!

Also, I posted a new one shot on my one shots book (on wattpad) so go check that out if you like!

Have a lovely weekend!


	34. VIII - William

**WILLIAM VIII**

His knighted Uncle and Ser Barristan strolled in behind him and his fragile mother to the Tower of the Hand. The office in which Lord Tywin conducted his work in was large and dimly lit in the day, candles often burning along with the sunlight that peeked through the small windows.

It was nice enough. It was bigger than the small council chamber behind the Throne Room, which gave him more room to walk around, something he liked. His mother walked straight into her seat, relieving him somewhat.  
"News from Essos?" Will began after everyone had risen, greeted him and sat again.  
"Daenerys Targaryen has reached Mereen and taken the city," his grandfather announced, "she sits in the Great Pyramid and styles herself as their Queen."  
"So it was just as we had planned, then?"  
"Everything went perfectly," Lord Varys smiled gaily, folding his hands on the table beneath his flowing silk sleeves, "the Sons of the Harpy remain plotting, but will not move until you command it."  
"Very well then."

 _Nothing but bones_ , he reminded himself again, _soon enough._  
"May I inquire as to what is happening at Pyke? We haven't heard anything of them since the Battle of Blackwater," Will noted, somewhat suspicious of the lack of word after the victorious night on his shores.  
"Last we've heard, the Greyjoy's are remaining on their wretched islands, licking their wounds," Tywin informed, waving a small piece of parchment that doubtless came from one of Varys' birds.  
"And pouring salt in them too, if they're so true to their Drowned bloody god," Cersei mocked, no humour in her. _I hope the salt burns them_ , he thought angrily, _I hope it burns them and their islands to rubble and that it sinks to the bottom of the sea. That's where they'll find their stupid god._  
"What is dead may never die," Littlefinger chuckled, "I assume those words are losing their truth quite quickly."

Will smiled at that before continuing, "and their fleet?"  
"Rumours of a new fleet being prepared are coming to light," Varys started, angering the King slightly.  
"Then burn them away," he instructed nonchalantly, concerning himself. _Am I so eager to destroy?_ he thought, _only for my Kingdoms. All is done for the good of the Realm._  
"The rumours?" the Spider queried.  
"The ships. Burnt. Finished and unfinished," he decided, "if we make sure they can't leave the Iron Islands, that leaves the dragon with one less ally and a lot less ships. I want them burned within the week," the King commanded, not willing to seek their counsel at all.  
"Very good, Your Grace," Tywin commended, "Lord Varys, I trust you'll do what needs to be done. Shall we discuss the conflict in the North?"  
"We shall," Will exhaled. _Just when I think I'm doing something right,_ he muttered in his head, _another enemy reminds me of himself._

So far as William was aware, the Dreadfort was held by a small force. No one contested them, all pre-occupied by the Starks having called the banners. Only small garrisons remained at each castle, save Winterfell, of course.

"The Dreadfort remains in possession of the Bolton's, as does Winterfell," Pycelle informed. He took so long to get the words out that William half-hoped that he'd die once he did; he was a wretched old man, and not one that the King trusted. He made it a point to explore options for getting a new maester.  
"And with most of the Bolton force occupied elsewhere," Littlefinger began, curiously, "I think we are presented with a fine opportunity, my lords."  
"You would send men to take the Dreadfort?" Tywin put the pieces together.  
"Shouldn't we be keeping all of our men here? In the city?" Joffrey asked, Will nodded in his direction, having only just noted his presence in the room. He continued his slow pace around the table again. _I wonder if they find this annoying,_ he thought.  
"Mereen is being held by Daenerys Targaryen who will soon be challenged by our allies there. Why not let them deal with her there whilst we deal with our enemies here?" he put forward, not displeasing Will.

 _But who do we send?_ he asked himself while the room calmly debated the options and their opinions of each, their voices only background noise to the King as he considered the problem at hand.

The City Watch were staying in the city, along with both of his household guards in case of more Targaryen allies springing attacks on the city. That he decided immediately. The Lannister army were important too, and would need to stay in the South to march to the Riverlands should the Tullys require assistance destroying House Frey and their siege or to fight against the Targaryen should she surprise them. The Baratheon army sat mostly at Storm's End and Dragonstone with their respective lords, though the small force that remained in the Capital could be sent. Then of course, there was one other option.

"The Tyrells," Littlefinger's voice chimed into William's head and he spun around to face them, "have many of their force waiting outside our city walls. I'm sure we can spare a few hundred to take the Dreadfort."  
"Feasible as it may be, is it _really_ a necessity that we take the stronghold?" Cersei questioned, William hearing every word spoken and unspoken.  
"Go on, mother."  
"With the wedding coming so soon and attacks somewhat imminent, is it not best to keep our men here?"  
"They're not all _our_ men," he reminded, "send the Tyrells. 500 to the Dreadfort by foot and 500 by sea. They'll lay siege to it for a month, if the castle is not in our possession before, then I do not care for it."  
"William," she began and he felt a pang of guilt. _Don't cry again,_ he begged in his mind, _it pains me to watch you cry._

He began speaking again, in an attempt to reassure her and assert further reason to his council, "this will give them another chance to prove their loyalty to the Crown. They'll all sail to White Harbour where 500 men will then travel by land and the rest by sea. That is the last I'll hear of it."

He knew he had disappointed her, but this was necessary. If the Tyrells would take the Dreadfort, then that was loyalty proven enough for now. If they didn't; his mother was right and they caught them out before any marriages bound their houses.  
She didn't say a word for the rest of the annoying meeting.

William arrived at his chambers again and heard the door shut behind him. As he thought about his moment with Cersei, he felt as if his family was in more conflict than his country. His mother hated his youngest brother's possible bride-to-be, his betrothed didn't quite like her either, his oldest brother wasn't getting on well with his own betrothed and instead preferred the company of the Tyrell, and the King was caught in the middle of it all; expected to make the decisions he knew not how to make.

 _Does Sansa even want to be here anymore?_ he thought, recalling Sarafine and his mother's recounts of her behaviour and so-called illness. _Maybe a better match can be arranged for her and for Joffrey. She has a younger sister, doesn't she?_ William called for ink and parchment immediately, carefully writing out his plan.

"Give this to my grandfather," he instructed Bronn, "as quickly as you can."  
"Aye, Your Grace," the sellsword trailed off down the halls, with some haste.  
"Ser Jaime," Will addressed one of the two Kingsguards outside his door, "may I have a word?"

The newly returned man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, taking William's invitation to sit.  
"I'm glad to have you back, Uncle."  
"I'm glad to be back," he smiled, "is there anything you require of me?"  
"I have a plan...but my mother's not going to like it," he admitted.  
"You may as well do away with it then," Jaime laughed and Will jokingly glared in his direction.  
"It's the only way I see to keep this family together."  
"May I ask what the plan is?"  
"To annul the betrothal of Joff and Sansa Stark," he breathed.  
"William," Jaime warned.  
"Not without just cause," he attempted to explain, "Margaery can marry Joffrey and Sansa's younger sister Arya can marry Tommen when the war is over and they are both of age. Sansa may return home to marry someone else her lord father deems worthy," he finished.  
"Lord Stark will never agree to it. Nor will your mother," his uncle informed, speaking some form of truth.  
"It's not up to her," Will spoke frustratedly, "Lord Stark would agree, would he not, if he knew his daughter was unhappy here?"  
"Marriage isn't supposed to just be happy, that comes with luck," Jaime lectured, disappointing Will.  
"Because you would know."  
Jaime raised his brows, "I've spent enough time in the capital watching unpleasant weddings. People marry for power, in most cases, or duty. Not love."  
"What a shame that is," Will sighed.

"Your father made this betrothal, do you really wish to dishonour him by casting aside his decision?" the Kingslayer tested, shaking Will a bit. _I hadn't thought of it that way,_ he considered, _would they all see it like that?_ He decided to ask his more impartial grandfather on the issue.  
"I wish to keep the Seven Kingdoms he fought for at peace," Will covered.  
"And two betrothals so some girls are happy is going to give you peace?"  
"We need the Tyrells and the Starks," the King reminded. His father's anger started to fill him, testing his limits.  
"You _have_ them William. Margaery to Tommen and Sansa to Joffrey," the Kingsguard tried to explain with frustration.  
"I like my idea better."  
"William, I urge you not to do this," Jaime stood.  
"I believe the King has already decided on the matter," Tywin said from the doorway, surprising them both. He shut the door behind him and stepped in slowly, the parchment in his hand. For a moment, William felt embarrassed. Him and Jaime had been bickering like children and there his grandfather stepped in, calm and collected with a face blank of any readable emotion.

Will stepped away from the table where his Uncle had stood, moving to his bed to lean upon it.  
"Your thoughts, grandfather?"  
"My thoughts," he began a pace similar to William's. He was an intimidating man, Tywin Lannister. He was the King's grandfather and his Hand, but intimidating nonetheless. As a child, William had been terrified of ever doing wrong in front of him. His father was more forgiving, but Tywin was a hard man. Will admired him all the same and waited patiently for his advice, "I say we do this: we promise Lady Margaery a betrothal and a wedding when the war is over and we won't marry Joffrey until it is done also. That way, we have the time to figure out our best option."  
"You would betroth her to Tommen?" Will raised a brow in confusion.  
"I would promise her a formal betrothal and say no names. Everyone will assume Tommen and you will be safe to make the change if necessary," the Warden of the West said, seemingly already decided on the issue.  
"And Lady Sansa?"  
Tywin smiled a bit then, "Lady Sansa is a young girl who doesn't understand the ways of war and politics. It is, of course, your decision but I wouldn't recommend you make such a drastic call over the whims and wails of one woman."  
"Wars have been started over less," William commented.  
"We're already in a war," Cersei reminded from the doorway.

 _Gods_ , Will cursed, _what am I to tell her?_  
"I need you in my solar, William. Wedding planning. Your Princess awaits," she smiled gently but sadly.  
"We'll discuss this later," he said, turning back to his two male relatives and walking out with his mother. _Please, don't ask about it,_ he willed.

She seemed to have recovered somewhat from her breakdown just hours before. Maybe the wedding planning had distracted her, he hoped so. It gave her something to look forward to. _This might well be the only wedding she enjoys,_ he thought sadly, looking at her and the way she smiled at him with pride in everything he did, even walking to her solar.

 _I hope I can make her happy,_ he thought regretfully, knowing his plan would hurt her and likely his betrothed as well. He tried to put it out of his mind.  
"What matter are we discussing today?"  
"Your words," she smiled, "you've never practiced them before."  
"Doesn't it take away from _the day_ if we practice them?"  
"You don't have to look at each other, just speak them. Make sure you know them and how to say it in time," she listed, making it rather clear to Will that this was completely unnecessary aside from distracting her. He decided to go along with it and take the excuse to see his Princess.  
"Did you and father do this?"  
"I didn't meet your father until we said the words in the Sept," she reminded.

When they made it to her solar, Sarafine was seated inside, clothed in tan-coloured silk with a belt of brown snakeskin. She looked like a true Dornishwoman, and the most beautiful woman alive. The rubies of her necklace shone brightly among it all. He wished he were alone with her, or that they were already wed.

For he loved her deeply, and above all else. Even the Seven Kingdoms that he held.

\- A/N -

Heyo! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

Let me know in a review: do you think Sarafine will like Will's idea? Or will she be just as upset as he thinks Cersei will be?

Also, good news, I got into my university course yesterday! Woo :)

Have a lovely week fam and vote if you liked this chapter :)


	35. VIII - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY VIII**_

Rumours had reached the ears of the Prince, igniting the flames of his father's fury inside him. He marched to the Tower of the Hand at the reception of a summons from the King; he almost struck Lancel when he spoke the words.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. The King leaned over the table as did his grandfather. Their mother sat in a chair, though looked as if she were about to jump out of it any second. They all turned to Joffrey.  
"Sit, we have some things to discuss," Will voiced.  
"Thing to discuss, is it? Seems to be _I_ wasn't consulted at all about any _discussions_ regarding _my_ betrothal before they even began," he spat.  
"Joffrey," his brother warned.  
" _No_ , not _Joffrey_. I'm your brother. Not a pawn in your game."  
"I didn't intend for you to find out this way," the King spoke softly, apologetically almost. Joff didn't buy it, and couldn't look past what he saw as betrayal; of his trust, his counsel, their brotherhood.  
"I don't think you intended for me to find out at all, but here we are," he spoke, more calmly than before but still with contempt. Joffrey did not sit.

The Prince instead walked forward and stood at the table, suddenly feeling unprepared. _What is my plan here?_ he asked himself, stupidly, _you can't just yell at all of them in hopes to accomplish anything._ He straightened his tunic and lifted his chin.  
"Joffrey, what do you think you're doing with Margaery?" Cersei exhaled, tiredly.  
"What do I think I'm doing? What does that mean?" he asked angrily. Margaery was a close friend, is all. _Though_ , he remembered, _the way she looks at me sometimes just makes me want to..._ he shook his head, "I enjoy her company."  
"Too much, it would seem," his grandfather joined in.  
"Not if you're planning to pick me as the lucky groom for her," he mocked, foolishly.  
"We are planning no such thing," Cersei argued.  
"You best ask your son and father about that, mother," he snapped.  
"She has," William asserted, "the decision is final, mother. Margaery _will_ marry into the Baratheons of the Iron Throne."  
"A foolish choice," she said, more angry than he'd ever seen her.  
"Why foolish?" Joffrey asked, clearly having missed something.  
"You wouldn't understand, you've had your face buried in Margaery's breasts too long to notice," Cersei snapped.

 _So that's what you think of me?_ he glared at her, at all of them, _that's what you all think this is?_ He near abandoned the informal meeting altogether, too furious to stand in their presence.  
"If you are so concerned about Margaery, why are you not sending her away?" he breathed.  
"Because we need to secure the Reach, Joffrey," William spoke quietly but with just as much anger.  
"Then betroth her to Tommen and be done with it, see if I care," he lied.

 _But she is so sweet and so beautiful_ , he reminded himself, _the perfect wife. A wife that would be dutiful and good. But Sansa..._ he thought of her fire-red hair and ice blue eyes again, _Sansa, Sansa, Sansa._

"It's not just her that's the problem," William admitted, "Lady Sansa wishes to return to her family in the North."  
"Then we'll visit one day, once the war is over," he dismissed, neglecting to see the truth of Will's words, though he knew something wasn't right.  
"It's not like that, Joffrey," Cersei near whispered, her heart and voice sad as each other. The Prince looked down at his feet, "I'm giving you a chance brother. Make things right with your Lady Sansa or we'll make things right for both of you."

Joffrey took a deep breath, the seriousness of his brother's words and the decisions he was making finally sinking in. He felt sad, suddenly. Since that day in Winterfell, over a year ago when he had met Sansa he had pictured her as his wife; miserable and difficult as she may have been to him at times. Now, his picture of the future was blurred, the woman who would stand beside him the hardest to see.

"Shall we discuss Myrcella?" Tywin broke the silence and Joffrey turned out of the room, no longer feeling as if he were needed or wanted there. He trailed off to his chambers, feeling unusual. _Is this what betrayal feels like?_ he thought, _is this what it is to hurt?_

Joff didn't have words to say what he was feeling, only a sullen look on his face and slumped shoulders. He barred the door, dismissing Lancel for the evening. He went to pour himself a glass of wine, something to relax him, when he saw the paper.  
"A direwolf seal," he whispered to himself, furrowing his brow as he picked it up and put the wine glass down. He broke the wax and unfolded the parchment.

 _My Prince,_

 _I pray that you forgive me for telling you this in writing, I haven't quite found an appropriate time to talk with you but if you wish to hear this from my lips, I should be happy to see you._

 _I know that our betrothal hasn't been the best, and that I have played a part in denying us a chance at a happy marriage and life here in the Capital. I know that we have both looked at the King and Princess Sarafine wished that we were them. But sadly, we are not._

 _Doubtless, my wishes have made their way to your ears by now. My Prince, I beg your forgiveness for my stubbornness and reluctance, and I pray to the old gods and the new that you are not hurt by my wish to return to Winterfell when it is back in my family's possession. I fear that I have grown to realise what a beautiful home it was, cold and isolated as it may be. It is a home that I have loved without knowing, and have mourned without crying. I miss it dearly and hope that this does not offend you._

 _While our betrothal still stands, I will do my best to make an effort on my part to at least give us a chance at a love like that of the songs, as I think that as a Prince, you deserve nothing less. I still promise to be a dutiful wife to you if we should be wed like your father wished, but I also imagine that the King will match you with someone who is equal to this task and can make you happy for the rest of your days, if it is not me who is wed to you in the Great Sept._

 _Whether you spend your days with me or with another lady of the Seven Kingdoms as your wife, I sincerely hope that you are happy in your future, Joffrey. I will do my best to make things brighter where they are dull and lighter when they are heavy. This I swear, by the old gods and the new._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Lady Sansa Stark._

His eyes stung of emotion and he blinked away the feeling, placing the parchment down and picking up his wine glass again.

\- A/N -

Poor Joff (never thought I'd say that lmao)

Do you think Joff will make more of an effort after reading Sansa's letter, or will he continue on with Margaery? Let me know in a review!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I really liked writing it :) have a great weekend!


	36. IX - Sarafine

Sarafine stood silently in the Throne Room and watched on as her betrothed granted Lady Margaery a gift that could not be undone.  
"It is the wish of the King that Lady Margaery of House Tyrell will marry into the Royal Family at a time when the war is done and won, the counsel consents," Pycelle read from a scroll. William nodded, somewhat melancholily. Sarafine looked at the ground beneath her, unable to watch as the young girl smiled wickedly at the Prince and the King.

William and Tywin's choice to not name a betrothed to Margaery was one that startled Sarafine at first. _It wouldn't be right to put her at Joffrey's side, he is volatile as is,_ she thought. But when she looked to Lady Sansa with her sad smiles and quiet courtesies, she just wanted the poor girl to go home. They stood arm in arm, watching it all with patience, though neither really wanted to be there. Sarafine looked to Cersei, who held her head high and her eyes low. _Disappointment_ , the Princess recognised.

"May I speak with you in private, princess?" Sansa asked once court had ended.  
"Of course, my lady."  
They soon arrived at the Northern girl's chambers and sat.  
"I wrote to the Prince," she admitted, "but I fear it were too late."  
"What did you write to him?" the Princess inquired, somewhat surprised at the bold move her friend had made.  
"Just an apology, and a vow that I will serve him well should I marry him," her voice sounded with defeat.  
"And have you received a reply? Has he spoken with you?"

Sansa gently shook her head.  
"Maybe that's why they haven't named a husband for Margaery," Sara suggested, not hopeful.  
"Maybe," the girl agreed, "but I can't be sure. He hasn't seen to me since I left it for him last week," she straightened her dress, "I am trying."

 _That is a while to leave it_ , Sarafine thought, "my lady, if I may, would you consider visiting him?"  
"I thought about it but I...I'm scared she will be there. Or he'll be busy. Or angry."  
Sarafine watched as Sansa seemed to talk herself out of it, "what if I were to distract Margaery, make sure Joffrey is alone? That may work."  
"There's no need, really. I would prefer to wait...as it stands, I _am_ still to marry him," she said, though Sarafine couldn't tell if the red-head were happy or sad about the fact.

She left Sansa's chambers at a summons from the King. Sara rose and straightened her gown, making way for the gardens where he wanted to see her. Sarafine loved her King, truly, with everything in her. Though war had hardened and burdened him, and sometimes she worried that they wouldn't go back to the way it were; when their hearts were young and innocent and full of laughter. Now, they had faced battle, destruction and death and weren't so young at heart; they were old and tired now, and she wished to make them young again.

The gardens of the Red Keep were as familiar to Sarafine as the back of her own hand or the colour of her love's eyes. As a child, she'd played with Myrcella and the boys, running through them freely without a care in the world aside from being caught by a Septa. _Running isn't for ladies,_ the one they had used to say, _you should always walk through the gardens, never run. Running leads to bruises. You don't want to be a bruised queen, do you?_ Sarafine thought of it fondly, laughing at her Septa's words. _I will be a bruised queen,_ she thought, _haven't you seen me and my love being crushed under these kingdoms?_

She saw him standing there, dressed in dark colours, as his father had dressed. His boots and breeches were black, his surcoat a deep red with golden embroidery, fashioned with a stag pin and a sash of gold fabric. Will wore the colours of both his houses proudly. She admired his black curls, the way they fell at the side of his face and the way they moved when he walked. She liked them best without the crown to constrain them, and today he did not wear it.

"Your Grace," she addressed and he spun, not having seen her as he stared into the Blackwater.  
"Princess," he smiled. It was then she remembered that she hated formalities, and she didn't take her childhood Septa's advice. Suddenly, she was a child again. She ran to her King and wrapped her arms around him, as he did her, "you came."  
"Of course," she smiled, confused, "I'd never refuse you."  
"Do you know how much I love you?"  
"I fear not. Say it again," she teased, longing to hear him speak the words, to whisper them into her ear so close that she could hear the smile in his voice and feel his lips move against her hair.  
"I love you," he said gently, pressing his lips to the side of her head and then to her face, kissing her sweetly. She'd missed that.  
"I love you," she repeated, unable to comprehend how much she truly adored him.  
"You're dressing like more of a Dornishwoman now," he smiled at her attire.  
"Do you like it?"  
"I think you look beautiful," he twirled her around.

Her sleeveless sand coloured silk and belt made of rubies that coiled around her waist separated her from every person in King's Landing. She was the Dornish princess, daughter of Prince Doran Martell; not like any of the others. A cuff made of gold was fastened on her right upper arm, and of course there was her prized necklace, gifted to her by the King. _My father should be proud to see me,_ she thought. It weren't that she didn't like dressing like most Southern women, she loved it, in truth. But lately, with her family soon to visit, she was making attempts to don garb more traditional to her culture. _And if my King likes it,_ she thought, _then I have no one else I need to please._

"Your family are expected to arrive any day now," he told her as she linked his arm through his and they began their walk. Their last real stroll in these gardens hadn't ended so nicely. For a moment, Sarafine reflected on it all. Their only problem was some Targaryen girl, miles away across the Narrow Sea with some Dothraki. _Oh, how that day changed it all,_ she recalled. If she shut her eyes, she could still see and hear the guard run to them to bring the fateful news.

 _"It's your father, my prince, he's been injured on his hunt,"_ the man had panted.  
Sometimes, she almost resented Robert for dying so quickly. He was the strength of the Kingdoms, and he succumbed to death so simply. She prayed that her William wouldn't be the same.

Now, how different their world had become. Will was the King, he fought a Targaryen and her treasonous allies, Sarafine was to wed him within the fortnight and would soon be responsible for producing an heir of Baratheon and Martell blood. She felt strangely excited, but nervous all the same.

"You're not angry at me, are you?" he asked.  
"Will."  
"I'm only doing this to keep our Realm together. Not because I want Margaery in our family. I don't," he spoke with urgency.

Sarafine exhaled, she was tired of fighting. They were fighting so many battles already, _this doesn't have to be another,_ she decided.  
"I'm not angry with you," she answered, honestly.  
"You aren't?"  
"You're my King, William. I trust you more than anyone in our world. Your decisions are mine," she declared and he smiled.  
"You swear it?" he raised a brow.  
"By the old gods and the new," she laughed, letting him hold her face in his hands and kiss her again. She placed her hands against his, enjoying the secrecy of the gardens. Guards hadn't followed him or her here, instead they waited at each entry and exit, she liked that. And suddenly, she was smiling again.

 _This is the William I fell in love with,_ she remembered, _the William who kisses me softly and laughs with me._ She told herself that she wouldn't argue with him on these kinds of things again, they were in this together, whether she agreed on everything or not. _I am to be his queen, it is my duty to support him through it all._

"Is there any other news?" she smiled when he drew his face back from hers.  
"Well, yes."  
"If it's not good, don't tell me. I'm in such a lovely mood," she sighed, twirling his hair between her fingers.  
"Actually it is," he surprised her, "though my Riverlands remain locked in battle, the Tyrell force I sent to the Dreadfort have done their job. They attacked the castle in the night and have taken it back into the possession of the Crown."

Sarafine smiled, _maybe things are looking up, maybe the worst has passed. If only our whole lives could be this way. A peaceful reign, yes, that would be lovely._  
His arms snaked around her waist and held her close to him, exciting her all the more.  
"Soon you'll be mine," he smiled, "and I won't have to worry about holding you too close."  
"I love you more and more each day in waiting," she whispered, holding his face in her hands. Her skin was darker than his, not by much, but she admired his lighter flesh against her deeper olive tone. _I wonder what our children will look like,_ she thought, _I hope our boys look like him. He's the most handsome man I've ever seen._

She pushed a strand of Baratheon black hair from his face. His deep brown eyes mirrored her own and it was then that she realised she would never love anyone in the world the way she loved him.  
"Our love will hold the Seven Kingdoms together," he spoke softly.  
"Then we are lucky the gods have made it strong," she smiled, laughing as he lifted her from her feet and spun her around slightly. She heard bells ringing from somewhere in the city, "that sounds important."  
"Not important enough," he smiled, kissing her again; on her lips, her cheek and her neck, over and over again.

"Your Grace, Princess," a guard's voice interrupted, and Sarafine half wanted to send him away herself. The King held her still, only lifting his face to look at the man. She panicked a moment. _Don't bring us more ill news in these gardens,_ she begged, _if you do, then I know they are cursed and I will never walk them again._  
"Go on," Will permitted.  
"The Prince Doran Martell has arrived, and his household. They are riding to the Keep as we speak," he informed.

Sarafine near jumped for joy at the news. _They're here!_  
Her face was beaming and she looked to Will who was equally as thrilled.  
"Shall we see to them?" he asked her. She took his hand in hers and _ran_. Past the guard, through the pathways and up flights of stairs. He laughed all the while, following her without question, and she laughed too. The wind on her face was a welcome sensation, the ache of her body from the exercise a thrill. Once they were in his castle again, they slowed, panting and grinning like children.  
"I've not done that for years," she breathed, struggling to get the words out. He kissed her quickly and then offered her his arm.  
"Princess," he jokingly addressed.  
"Your Grace," she returned.  
"I feel like I'm meeting them for the first time," he confessed, though he didn't seem bothered.  
"I feel something like that too," she admitted, "I haven't seen them since they left Dorne. Gods, I don't even know which of them have come!"  
"You're about to become Queen," he reminded her, "I'm sure they've all come."  
"Do you think I look alright? Presentable and...I don't know, respectable?"  
"You always do," he pressed his lips to her forehead and ordered the doors to the Throne Room be opened. She let him lead her in, and then she saw them.

Her father held a walking cane, but suddenly all the vagueness of his image in her mind became clear and she remembered his face as if she'd never forgotten it.  
"Sweet Sarafine," he smiled. She ran to him too, wrapping her arms around her flesh and blood and feeling him do the same. His stick fell to the ground and she allowed him to lean on her instead, small as she was.  
"I'm so glad to finally see you again, father," she beamed, kissing his cheek. His blue eyes were warm and kind and they smiled with his mouth. She liked that.  
"Princess," Trystane addressed with a smirk. He hugged her too, and she admired how he had grown into almost a man.

 _This is the future of Dorne,_ she thought proudly as she looked upon his face, _this is the future of my blood and my name._  
"Your Grace," her father continued, "it is an honour to be here in the Capital for this wedding. Soon we will be family," he smiled and Sara watched as William did too.  
"It is an honour to host you," he smiled, "and to wed your daughter and make her my Queen."

He greeted Trystane as well, and Sara went on to greet the rest of her family who had travelled; Oberyn, Ellaria and three of his daughters.  
"Sarafine, my Sunshine," Oberyn called her as he had when she were little, pressing a kiss to her forehead and wrapping his arms around her. Memories came flooding back to her when he said that, and she felt she had never been happier.

 _My family here to see me become one with my love_ , she doubted she would ever enjoy a prouder moment. Re-introductions continued and they spent the entire afternoon together.

\- A/N -

This was such a happy chapter aw.

How do you think things will go with Sara's family in town? Let me know in the comments!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you have a wonderful week :)


	37. IX - William

_**WILLIAM IX**_

"With the arrival of a raven from Riverrun, we have learnt that the siege is quickly weakening. The numbers of Frey men are dwindling," Lord Varys informed whilst William paced around the room. _Thank the gods_ , he thought, somewhat sarcastically. His pace was quickened this particular meeting of the small council, and his nerves were heightened.

He turned to see Prince Doran Martell, his soon-to-be father by law. The man was warm and calm and although Will had no reason to worry, he felt that he was under some kind of pressure - likely self-inflicted. The man leant back in his chair, his walking cane standing beneath his right hand. _Rich man's disease, they say,_ William remembered. Sarafine hadn't been too shocked to see him with it, though the King himself couldn't have imagined anything worse than not being free to run and ride and walk and live. Nevertheless, Doran seemed happy enough. After all, his daughter was about to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Doran wore a long surcoat of gold, embroidered with a blue similar to that of his eyes - the colour of the sea, they were. They reminded Will of his own father's icier eyes, but that made him sad. The celebrations began a week ago in the lead up to the wedding, _and he'll never get to see it,_ Will thought with sorrow, _I hope he can watch it from above._

"Your Grace," his grandfather's voice pulled him back to the meeting, "what would you have us tell Lord Edmure?"  
"Remind me, how many men does he have?" Will deflected, not wanting to seem as if he were not paying attention.  
"Ten thousand, though the Frey siege is only made up of four thousand men which is why he doesn't believe it is necessary to call the banners. Though, with the traitors reaving like Greyjoy's about the homes of the small folk, the banners may begin to fight back at any time," the eunuch continued.  
"Then why don't they?" Joffrey asked.  
"Waiting for the King's command, my son," Cersei gave a smile at her first born.  
"That, _and_ that they wish to tend to their lands. With the threat of another Targaryen conquest and all," Varys continued on with far too much melodrama.  
"What of our army?" the King asked, "the Lannister host sit idly by waiting for the dragon's arrival...it won't take long for them to march up the Kingsroad to Lord Harroway's...better yet, send those remaining at Casterly Rock. If they take the River Road, it would be a week's march at most. The Frey's wouldn't know what hit them," he spoke, his thoughts turning to words before he could process them.  
"We can't risk weakening the Rock," Tywin offered, not unkind, "the Greyjoy's could strike again at any second, we _cannot_ lose Lannisport to them or we end up back where we started."  
"Their fleet, Varys?" Will inquired.  
"Still in construction, last I heard. The work continues on our end, too," he informed, "if I may, it might be in our best interest to wait for the Frey's to return to the Twins, as Lord Edmure has been doing."  
"The Others bugger the twins," he said angrily, "how many remain at Riverrun?"  
"Just shy of three thousand, Your Grace," Qyburn informed.  
"For now we'll wait," he decided, "the Tully's have the supplies, yes?"

Varys nodded, "regarding Daenerys Targaryen, I should inform that the Sons of the Harpy have begun causing her much trouble. There's been reported deaths of her Unsullied soldiers in the streets."

William felt somewhat guilty to hear of that. _They only fight for her because she freed them,_ he thought, _but if they're free, that means they chose it,_ the King reminded himself. His guilt was soon forgotten.  
"And her position?" he inquired.  
"She's not shown any signs of moving, so far as my birds have told me. But this could change at any moment. The girl is having some problems with controlling her scaled beasts."

 _Nothing but bones.  
_ "Meaning?"  
"One of them has disappeared completely. My birds are working to find where the other two are keeping. As at now, no one has seen them for a time."

The King thought for a moment.  
"Council is dismissed," he announced, "Prince Doran, would you stay?"  
"Of course," the man nodded, not moving from his seat while the rest of them exited with bows and curt nods. It was then William himself, Tywin, Joffrey, Cersei and the Dornish prince.

"Edmure Tully has insisted they wait out the Frey's since the damned siege began," Cersei reminded, "they will be _so_ easily defeated."  
"But then there's the Greyjoys...and gods know who else," Joffrey muttered.  
"We could command Riverrun to fight, could we not?" William questioned.  
"Could _you_ not, you mean," Tywin corrected, "you could, but in truth, we want to avoid fighting all together. She could leave Mereen at any moment...depending on her love for those slaves she thinks she's freeing."

Will looked at Doran again, who watched intently yet did not speak. _Should I ask him?_ he considered, _maybe a fresh perspective will clear my head._  
"The Frey's only job is to cut off the North from the South," he spoke, as if reading the King's mind. His accent was a sweet sound, and for a moment Will wondered what Sarafine would sound like if hers had stayed. He imagined it would sound just as smooth and exotic, "the North is strong enough on it's own, no?"  
"For now," Will agreed.  
"For now is what matters. They are falling apart _now_ , soon they will be gone. Your Grace, I would advise we let the Frey's waste away in their siege tents," the man offered, putting it all rather simply.  
"Nothing it is," Tywin seemed to accept and the King nodded.

Everyone began to make way for the door, all conversing at once. William assisted Doran, and Tywin stood on his other side.  
"You're to be a husband tomorrow," the Dornishman reminded.  
"I've never been more thrilled," he confessed, his smile spreading from ear to ear.  
"I'm glad to give my daughter to you," Doran said, genuinely, "you are a good man. You will make as good a husband as you do a King."  
"I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say that, truly," the King felt warmer by his words, "thank you. I will not disappoint you."  
"Eighty thousand Dornishman will make sure you don't," he laughed and William did too.

The King soon returned to his chambers to bathe and prepare himself for the feast, hosted by the Queen-to-be as tradition permits, though she herself would not make an appearance after His Grace arrived. The next time William would see his love would be in the Great Sept tomorrow. He hoped that she would have the kitchens serve mulled wine so that he would sleep; his anticipation made every moment lengthy and every second more exciting than the next. Tomorrow, everything he'd ever wanted would become his _forever_.

William could not seem to wipe the smile from his face.

\- A/N -

Only a half chapter for Will this week, but still - the wedding is almost here! He's so excited aw

Do you think everything will go to plan? Let me know in a review!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you have a lovely weekend :)


	38. IX - Cersei

_CERSEI IX  
_

She woke that morning with a smile on her face. Cersei Lannister was giving her first born son, her pride and joy, her flesh and blood and King to be wed - and she was more thrilled than imaginable with the bride. Serving girls brought her a summer wine and hot bread with sweet fruits to break her fast.

"Today is a day I've been waiting for, and it's been too long a wait," she smiled at one of the women, who she rarely spoke to other than to give orders or requests.  
"I imagine so, Your Grace. May your son and the princess have a blessed marriage," the server bowed her head gently in a nod and left Cersei in peace.

 _But I don't want to be alone_ , she thought, oddly. Since Robert's death, the Queen saw only her family, the council and Qyburn. She avoided speaking to hand maidens and serving girls, only thanking them quietly and sending them away. But now, all she wanted was for everyone she saw to share in her joy.

She was soon dressed for the morning and made her way to her sons chambers, which he would soon share with his bride. This morning, she was garbed in a light red sleeveless gown, and a golden cape embroidered with the Lannister lion.

"Mother," he beamed when he opened his chamber door, clothed only in a red silken robe with a cup of wine in his hand.  
"My son," she smiled, wrapping her arms around him, her heart filled with happiness.  
"You look well," he smiled, shutting the door behind them, "come here. I want to show you something."

The King lead her to his nightstand where he opened a draw and revealed a box.  
"What's this?" she raised her brows in curiosity.  
"A gift. Open it."  
She did so, staring down at a golden choker, fashioned with a Lannister lion at the center with the Martell sun behind it and spear laid flat at the base of the lion's mane. It was _beautiful_.  
"William," she breathed, "did you design this?"  
"With some help. Do you like it?"  
"It's lovely, should I wear it today?"  
"I would love you to. I've had one made for Sarafine as well. For you two to match," his smile told of how happy he truly was. She looked into his eyes and saw; he was not worried of war or dragon girls or treasonous houses - only his love and his family. Tears welled up in her eyes for a moment.  
"I'm so proud of you, William," she breathed, laughing at her display of emotion while he took her in his arms.

Joffrey entered the room and greeted them both, William also revealing a gift for him; a ring fashioned with the Baratheon and Lannister sigils.

Next, she visited the Queen-to-be's chambers. Sarafine was eating breakfast when she arrived, clothed in a silken robe similar to William's. It was a white so bright that it shone against her Dornish skin and made her glow equally as bright. Hand maidens filled the tub with hot water and her wedding gown was presented over a mannequin.  
"Princess," Cersei smiled when she saw her, "today is your day."

They shared a sweet embrace.  
"I just received a gift from William," she beamed, "on the note he left, it says that ours will match."  
"They do," Cersei admired the piece identical to her own as the red rubies and polished gold shone around Sarafine's neck.  
"Princess, your bath is ready," a handmaiden informed.

Sarafine took a deep breath and Cersei held her hands.  
"You're my daughter officially today."  
"I'm the luckiest woman in the world," she beamed.  
"Let me wash your hair for you," the Queen offered, wishing to stay in her company.

The Princess let her robe slip from her and climbed into the tub, her young body sinking into the water that had been scented with lavender oil, Cersei's favourite scent. The Queen took the seat by the copper bath and sat the bucket into the water, being careful to place the fabrics of the cape behind her shoulders. She gently poured the water over the head of the girl she'd come to love as her own, remembering her own wedding day.

She'd never met Robert, and her nerves were as heightened as her excitement. _Tomorrow, I'll be the Queen,_ she had thought. But when she saw him standing there in the Great Sept, her words changed. _Tomorrow, I'll be_ his _queen_. Her smile had been so true and her eyes so bright that day, just as they were now. She washed the long and dark locks of the Princess with beautiful oils and potions, and Cersei realised that Sara may be feeling precisely as she did once.

"You aren't just taking on a husband, but a Realm too," Cersei reminded, "only the strongest of women are fit for this role, which is why I'm so happy to hand it over to you."  
"I've learnt all that I know from you," she turned, "I will never be able to repay you for everything you've done for me, Cersei."  
"You never have to," the Queen smiled proudly.

 _My daughter,_ she thought as she ringed water out of her hair, _my son is truly marrying the most beautiful girl in the Seven Kingdoms, and I'm so glad that she has a soul to match._

She was soon dressed herself, in her own chambers, her hair placed in an elegant arrangement of braids and curls as golden as the choker she donned. Her garb was a shoulder-baring gown with patterns in crimson and deep-golden silks. The sleeves were elaborate, hanging three or more feet down from where they met her wrists. Her Lannister lion was delicately emblazoned on the sides of the sleeves, jewels and fine fabrics making up the mane and the face. She wore rings and a golden chain around her wrist that Robert had gifted her, and a piece of her own wedding gown was sewn into the inside of the bodice - hidden from all but remembered by her. _This is truly my proudest moment,_ she breathed, looking into the mirror.

When she visited him again, his belt was being fastened around the sash of black velvet he wore over his left shoulder. The King's surcoat was a mixture of a rich and bright gold with subtle tones of Martell orange, embroidered in black with a combination of suns, spears, lions and stags.  
"You look wonderful," she smiled, Joffrey already dressed next to him.  
"As do you, mother."

The servant went to take the crown to her son.  
"Allow me," she interjected, taking the golden ring of sigils in her hands and delicately placing it atop his head, having to stretch her height somewhat. She rested her hands on his arms from behind, smiling at his image.

 _He's a true King, Robert,_ she thought, _and we raised him well._

\- A/N -

Alas, the final chapter of _pre_ -wedding fluff 3 Everyone's so happy aw

I'm curious, who's your favourite character in this story? Let me know in a comment!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you on Friday for the next instalment!


	39. X - Sarafine

_A/N: Start the attached YouTube clip at 1m 40s :)_

 ** _SARAFINE X_**

Handmaidens placed her hair in a stunning combination of plaits, braids and twirls. Sarafine watched in the mirror as they did, looking into her own deep brown eyes. _Today, I become their Queen,_ she tried to comprehend, _I become_ the _Queen._ One would've thought that Sarafine was familiar enough with the notion, and while that was true, the day felt nothing less than surreal. She'd always known it would come; and now that it were here, she almost didn't know what it meant.

But preparing for her wedding to William after _years_ of waiting for a day that only seemed to drift further away was the best thing the Princess of Dorne had ever experienced. _This is it,_ she realised when she woke that morning. _Today, we pledge our love for each other on a stage so grand that the world will sing songs of it for years to come. And tonight, I will be his by every law of gods and men._ She felt giddy at the idea, though she was nervous all the same.

The whole day seemed to be about her. She hadn't seen her King for two days, but imagined he was getting the exact same treatment. Sarafine had been visited by almost as many people as she knew. First came the Queen, then Sansa and Myrcella. Joffrey visited too, and Trystane. Then Ellaria and even Lady Margaery, loath as she may be. They'd all come with gifts as glorious as the day; jewels and gowns and fine oils and wines from as far east as man knew.

Once her elaborate up-do was complete, she heard a knock at her door. The current Queen appeared again, dressed in a gown so lovely that Sarafine nearly cried at the sight. _Everything today, it's all for me,_ she smiled sweetly, feeling like a child, _this is my coronation._

"You look as fine as I've ever seen you, my sweet," the Queen commented.  
"As do you, my Queen," Sarafine smiled, "it's time for my gown, apparently."  
Cersei smiled at the creation as it hung from the shoulders of a mannequin, "William's litter has just left the Keep for the Sept."  
"Did you see him off?" the Princess asked, rising from her chair to the platform her handmaidens would dress her on. She longed for any hint of how he looked.  
"Yes. He's equally excited as you," the Queen sat, "and looks just as lovely."

A serving girl poured Cersei some wine while Sara, for a final time, slipped out of her white silken robe, a gift she'd received from her love along with the choker. She watched the other girls remove the dress from the mannequin and unlace it at every point which required so. _The next time I'm undressed, it'll be at his hands,_ she reminded herself, butterflies rising in her stomach. She admired the curves of her breasts and the contours of her body in the mirror for a moment, _I hope he's happy with me._

"Princess," a girl broke her from her thoughts, holding the skirt for her to step into. The fabric was a pale material, covered in golden stones and jewels that had been sewed on or glued with wax. It was as Dornish a gown as she had hoped for, with rather sheer panels of fabric and shoulders which were exposed but for the cape-like sleeves which ran to the floor on either side. The back of the bodice was open too, cooling her in the autumn heat of the Capital.

She wondered how many high lords and ladies would frown at her choice of attire, _but they are not of Dorne_ , she remembered, _and they are not to be the Queen._

The back of the skirt was laced up again and she admired herself in the full bridal garb which she wore. William's engagement gift to her hung at her throat in the space above the plunging neckline, reminding her of how much she loved him every time a ruby caught the light and glimmered across the room. Then her final piece. She looked at it from her stand and as a girl went to pick it up, her father entered.

Each of the handmaidens curtseyed and Cersei rose from her seat. Sarafine turned to face him in his fineries of orange and gold linens traditional to that of their homeland. His face lit up.  
"My sunshine," he exhaled and she could do nothing but blush and smile, taking the dress in her hands and twirling around for him.  
"Leave us," the Queen Regent commanded of the girls. Sarafine stepped down from her pedestal, "I best be going to, Princess. I'll see you in the Sept," Cersei kissed her cheeks and hugged her tightly before exiting.

Doran Martell gazed at his daughter in awe, "you look so much like your mother."  
"I hope that's a good thing," she laughed, hugging him.  
"Of course it is," he laughed, "I've come to escort you to the Sept."  
"Wonderful. I'm almost ready, just one more thing," she sauntered over to the stand and cushion on which it lay.

Sarafine's tiara was a sweet and small thing; an intricately moulded golden piece which peaked at the front with one of the seven tongues of the Martell suns flames. The sun itself was the centre-piece: a bright topaz like the one in William's crown, connected by the seven flames, each representing one of the Kingdoms. She could only imagine the difficulty of carving it. She raised the pillow in her arms.  
"Would you do me the honour?" she asked, turning to face him again. His eyes seemed to glint in the light, "if you cry, you know I'll be a mess," she laughed lightly and he smiled. Her father assisted himself to her on his walking cane and took the crown from its place. She'd never worn it before and she tilted her head for him to position it on her. No garb had ever felt more _her_ than the gown and crown she was dressed in. And none had been more special.

"This is as much yours as mine, father," she looked into his eyes, "I can't thank you enough for arranging this for me."  
"My daughter's happiness and peaceful reign is enough, I promise," he kissed her forehead lightly, "now come, we have a royal wedding to attend."

He held his free arm out for her and she took it. When he had arrived in the Capital, it had been to Sara as if she'd never spent a day apart from him. He was the same man she'd vaguely remembered him to be; though seeing him again made his memory and those of her childhood as clear as anyone that stood in front of her. They climbed into litters, every guard bowing in respect and every handmaiden offering a curtsey and a compliment for the bride.

The ride to the Sept had been a long one; only because of her anticipation. She rode alone, her father ahead of her and her handmaidens behind her. She constantly checked through the viewing panels to see how close they were, and figured she may as well have walked through the streets. Crowds of smallfolk were gathered in the streets, chanting for her.

"Princess Sarafine," she heard, over and over, "all hail the new Queen!"  
She wanted to thank them all, but she wanted to get to the Sept more. When her litter came to a brief halt, her heart stopped. Bells began to ring, signalling her arrival.

 _I'm here,_ she knew, _I'm about to marry Will. I'm about to see him, and join with him for eternity._ She blinked back tears and climbed gracefully out, her father awaiting her as she did. She turned back to her city, smiled and gave a wave before taking his arm and beginning the climb, the train of her dress carried by two girls.

The doors were shut when she reached the top and she couldn't wipe the smile from her face.  
"Are you ready?" Doran asked her and all she could do was nod quickly, "I am so proud of you, my sunshine. We all are."

/cScVoZWVDLQ?t=1m40s

Her father's free arm wrapped around her again and she cuddled him as if she were a child. When they parted, she nodded again as did he. Two Kingsguard followed behind them and the doors to the Sept were opened. The bells stopped and Sarafine's heart felt fuller than ever as her father began to lead her down the steps.

Every eye in the Sept was on her, but hers were only on one.

When she saw him, at the base of the stairs, it were as if every other lord and lady, knight and maester, septa and daughter had faded away. She felt their eyes, but she saw her King and only him. William's golden surcoat was the finest garb she'd ever seen him in, and he looked more handsome than ever at the thought that he was finally to become hers. The cloak hung over his shoulders; all reds and golds and blacks and oranges in patterns she didn't even have time to make out. Her father released her after the first small flight of stairs and everything felt more real than ever as the love of her life stood in front of her and held out his own arm for her to take. He thanked Doran with a nod and looked at Sarafine with more adoration than she'd ever seen in him.

 _He's my King, and I'm about to become his Queen._

They climbed the next set of stairs to where the High Septon stood, ready to make the match before the gods. The Sept had never seemed so grand.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered to her.

They reached him and smiled cheerily, the warmth of William's arm a calming sensation.  
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the man said to the King.

Sarafine turned and held her hair for him. His touch sent goosebumps up her arm on this special day and suddenly the cloak was her favourite gift of any she'd ever received. He squeezed her arms gently and they both turned to face the Septon again. The man nodded and the King and almost-Queen placed their hands out; William's first and Sara's on top. The Septon began to wrap the fabric around their hands.

"Let it be known that Sarafine of the House Martell, and William of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, are one heart, one flesh, one soul...for eternity," the Septon bound them as one, placing his hand over theirs and unravelling the fabric. Sarafine could've lived in the moment forever, "look on each other and say the words."

William took her hands in his and she blushed again, feeling like a child in her excitement. They looked into each other's brown eyes, smiling in the seriousness, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," she declared, knowing that she would never speak truer or more meaningful words.  
"Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!" the High Septon called.

The King held the new Queen tightly in his arms and laid his sweet and soft lips on hers, binding them forever in front of the Realm. The feeling of their kiss was a magic unbeknownst to her, and she revelled in it's glory, holding the back of his neck and returning every inch of passion as they joined together. No kiss or touch had ever been so sweet to her, and she wished it could've lasted forever. Cheers and claps rose in the Sept.

"I love you," he breathed, a longing in him.  
"I love you," she smiled widely, laughing. They held their hands together in front of the guests, smiling over them all.  
"You're their Queen now," William reminded.  
"And you're my husband," she realised.  
"You're my wife," he smiled and she wanted to kiss him again. He pecked her lips gently with his and they made their way down the steps and to their families.

Arms embraced them; the Queen Mother, the Prince of Dorne, the Baratheon Prince and the Hand of the King. Each of them curtseyed and bowed for their newlywed King and his newly-made Queen.  
"Your Grace," Lady Sansa addressed her with a smile when they finally got a chance to speak again.  
"My lady," Sarafine curtseyed and they burst into laughter, "formalities truly just aren't our flair, are they?" they linked arms.  
"Still, you must feel excited to be _Queen_ ," Sansa beamed as they walked through the Sept like they had a few weeks ago. Lords and ladies filed out and made their way to the royal courtyards where the wedding feast was to be held while the families of the bride and the groom socialised among each other; laughing and smiling together.

 _I wish it were always this way,_ the Queen wished sadly, dismissing the thought. She turned back to Lady Sansa.  
"Does this make you more excited for your own day?" Sarafine asked.  
"Somewhat," she looked to Joffrey, "but this isn't about me. I don't want to talk about me," the girl smiled sweetly.  
"Lady Sansa," William's voice interrupted.  
"Your Grace, congratulations," Sansa curtseyed before William ignored the courtesies altogether and hugged her instead. Sarafine smiled.  
"May I take _Queen Sarafine_ from you?" he asked, looking to his wife with a smile so playful that she wanted to skip the feast altogether and race to their chambers to begin their wedding night - even if the sun still shone brightly outside.  
"You may," Sansa nodded her head and sauntered over to Cersei.

William took her hand in his.  
"Queen Sarafine," he addressed.  
"King William," she nodded.  
"Shall we go celebrate this wonderful day?" he smiled, melting her inside.  
"We shall."

And so began the festivities.

\- A/N -

YAYYYYYYYY FOR THE WEDDING! Aw :') so cute

Did you like Sarafine's dress? Let me know in a review!

I hope that you loved this chapter as much as I did: the song, the dress & the cuteness. I'm so happy they're finally married aw.

Have a lovely weekend!


	40. IX - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY IX**_

The feast was greater than any Joffrey had ever been to, though he'd expected nothing less. The King had gotten married, and the Realm had gained a new Queen - it truly _was_ something to be celebrated in the most extravagant of manners.

Joffrey sat on a table of Baratheons and Lannisters, made up mostly of William's immediate family. It sat to the left of the King, who kept his bride on the right of him, and her family on a table to the right of her. The three tables looked down onto the rest of the guests - lords and ladies from the Neck to Dorne. Some attendees had come all the way from Essos, even, which Joffrey found somewhat impressive.

It had barely begun when the King himself rose, his Queen beside him. Joffrey watched on.  
"My lords, my ladies," he started, "I want to formerly thank you all for being here today. To have you in the Capital to witness the marriage of me and Queen Sarafine," he looked to her, a precious smile on his face, "is a true blessing from the gods. We sincerely hope that you enjoy the feast today."

Cheers and hoots rang out from the crowd below them and as Joffrey looked to his brother and new sister-by-law, he noticed that William's smile was different every time he looked to his Queen. It wasn't his _King_ smile, it wasn't his polite smile, it wasn't even his happy smile. It was his smile that was for her, one of love. Joffrey turned to his left where his own bride-to-be was seated, smiling more than she had since arriving in the city.

Though Joffrey would never admit it, Sansa's letter had touched him deeply, in ways he didn't know anyone was capable of. The truth was, however, that the Prince knew it was his last chance with his lady. _And I'm terrified of ruining it again._ He tried to ignore it completely and ease back into courtesies and small gestures, but he felt it wasn't enough. As he looked to his newlywed brother, he knew that he wanted more with Sansa. He wanted to walk her through the gardens and stand by her at court. He wanted to wed her in the Sept and keep her at his side where he felt she was safe.

Regretfully, he thought back to the day of the Frey's riot. _I let her go_ , he cursed himself, _I'm the reason they got nearly got her. It was_ my _fault._

He adjusted himself in his chair and turned to her.  
"You look the picture of grace today, my lady," he said, trying to channel the side of him that he wished he understood better.

The way Lady Sansa looked at him felt foreign. It was as if she was surprised he had spoken at all. _Gods, I shouldn't have let it go on this long._  
"Thank you, my prince. Your garb is as fine as I've ever seen you in," she said, sweetly.  
"It is quite the occasion for it, yes?" he smiled.  
"They look so happy together," Sansa commented.  
"They are," Joff responded, unsure of how to take her comment. _Is that what you want from me?_ he thought, _I can give it to you, maybe,_ "they deserve it all."  
"Sarafine's dress is so lovely."  
"Mm, it is."

 _Is this the time to bring up the letter?_ he asked himself, _or is it too early? Will this make it awkward? Gods, I'm terrible at this._  
"Sansa, may I be honest with you?"  
"Of course, my prince," she leant in, her eyes begging him.  
"Your letter that you sent to me was-"  
"My prince, my lady," the sweet voice of Lady Margaery interrupted.

No sooner had he mustered up the courage to say it, the moment was gone with his bravery. He couldn't even look at her.  
"Lady Margaery," they both addressed, standing.  
"If you don't mind, my prince, I was wondering if I could steal Lady Sansa away from you for a moment?" she smiled, something about it not genuine. Joff tilted his head to the side, deciding he couldn't yet bounce back from the awkwardness.  
"We were just-"  
"Yes, of course," Joffrey interrupted his lady, unsure of whether she was to accept or decline the Tyrell girl's invitation.

Sansa and him shared a sad look, and suddenly Joffrey felt all the guilt in the world.  
"Come along, Sansa," Lady Margaery beckoned, "I hear there's acrobats _all_ the way from _Braavos_!"  
And with that they were gone.

He looked to his uncle Tyrion next to him.  
"Now may be a good time for you to go congratulate your brother," he suggested, swilling the wine in his cup which he'd already emptied twice.

Joffrey rose from his seat, somewhat abruptly, and made his way for the King's table. Guests had been coming and going since the feast began, and the prince hoped he wasn't an annoyance to his brother and Queen.

"Your Grace, Your Grace," he bowed his head politely.  
"You look like a fool when you do that to me," Will laughed, reaching over the table and hugging Joffrey. Sarafine offered the same gesture.  
"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked.  
"Yes, it's such a grand feast. How could I not?" he lied slightly. Sarafine's eyes trailed behind Joffrey to his red-headed lady and the Tyrell before landing back on him and raising a brow, "they're just talking."  
"How is she?" the King asked.  
"She's happy. I think. I am trying," he admitted, "but this isn't about me. This is your day."

William smiled at his Queen and back at his brother.  
"Thank you," his brother said, "for everything."  
"I best let you back to your guests," he nodded and they did too, speaking short goodbyes.

Joff trailed down from the High Table, somewhat dissatisfied. The food was wonderful, the music light and the sun warm - but he wanted Sansa with him.  
"Prince Joffrey," Trystane Martell's voice called. The Baratheon prince spun to face his new brother-by-law.  
"Prince Trystane," he greeted, "are you enjoying the celebration?"  
"I am a Martell of Dorne, if there's wine and women - I am enjoying," he laughed.  
"I believe there are plenty of each to keep you entertained," Joffrey jested.  
"And you? My father tells me you are soon to be wed also."  
"To Sansa Stark, yes," he said, solemnly, "if all goes to plan."  
"Something tells me it is not, aye?"  
"Nothing ever goes quite to plan in King's Landing," he realised.  
"I don't know...I see _them_ and I think: _that's what love is, that's what our kingdoms will be built on for generations to come._ It seems to have gone better than planned," Trystane looked to William and Sarafine, who were gazing at and occasionally spoon feeding each other.  
"They're a miraculous exception," Joff sighed.  
"I hope all goes well for you and your lady, my prince. I look forward to your wedding one day."  
"I can't say it'll be as grand as all this, but...I do look forward to it also."

They said their courtesies and Joffrey slinked back to his chair by his family. His eyes found their way to the King's table again. _Trystane is right,_ Joffrealised _, that's what love is._

Sadly, he looked back to the empty seat beside him.

\- A/N -

Joff: so close yet so far. Lmao.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Do you think Joff will try again with Sansa at the wedding? Or just leave it for another time, if at all? Let me know in a review!

Have a lovely week!


	41. X - William

_WILLIAM X_

William sat with his new Queen at his side, opening his mouth while she served the choice portion of honeyed chicken to him on her fork. She laughed and he chewed, nothing ever having tasted sweeter to him. In his time at court, the King had met many people in marriages that they didn't appear the least bit happy in. They behaved as if their marital bonds were prisons - but William Baratheon had never felt more free.

 _She's mine_ , he thought with every look her way, _mine, mine, all mine._ Speaking the words to her truly and finally was a greater moment than even being crowned King or destroying the Greyjoy forces in Blackwater. All he'd ever wanted had become his for eternity, and his in all the ways a man and woman could be each others. There was nothing they had to hide, no caution of affections. If they wished to kiss and embrace in front of their court, they could.

" _I am hers, she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days_ ," he remembered. When he stood there in that Sept; he wasn't the King. His kingdoms weren't at war. His family wasn't in fits with each other over betrothals. He wasn't facing invasion. He was just William, and he was just wildly in love with Sarafine.

He had prayed to his gods, and to his father too. And to Sarafine's mother, though he'd never met her. He wondered if Sara wished she were here just as he did of Robert, but the thoughts of them made him sad. They soon stood together to toast to their memories.  
"So lovely as it is to have you all here today, as His Grace has said, there are two very special people who couldn't be here. We ask that you all raise your cup to Princess Mellario Martell and King Robert Baratheon. May the gods give them rest and enjoyment at watching this all from the Seven Heavens," his Queen announced, with all the grace in the world.  
"To the mother of the Queen," Will raised his goblet.  
"And the father of the King," she added, "may the gods give them rest."  
"May the gods give them rest," the guests spoke in unison.

They took their seats again and another dish was brought to them. Her smile at everything around them was the happiest he'd seen. She was in awe of it all; the feast, the people, the music, the gowns and surcoats. Even the weather was something to be joyful about. The sun shone down on them all brightly, and they had a wonderful view of Blackwater Bay as ribbons of silver sunlight danced across the calm water.

"I can't believe this is all happening," he said, honestly.  
"It is quite surreal, yes," she smiled, "we've waited so long and now it's here."  
"I've never been happier, Sarafine. Truly. I want you to know that."  
"I've seen the smile on your face, Will, I already know," she moved her face to his and their lips touched again. He wondered if anyone paid attention to their public affection now; it hadn't really stopped since they'd arrived at the feast. Constant kisses and gentle touches, loud laughters and sweet whispers.

Entertainers entertained, minstrels sang, acrobats danced and bent their bodies. Lords and ladies offered congratulations and gifts plenty.

Often William felt as if he was the most cursed man in the Kingdoms. Of course, he had his health and his riches and his shelters but the burden of Seven Kingdoms on his shoulders was heavier than anything and hurt terribly. Today, he felt as if he were the most blessed man in the Kingdoms, his new wife and new partner in regality beside him.

Sarafine's dress was a creation beyond anything his imagination had painted for him in his head. He had thought of it for weeks. _What will she look like? How will they do her hair? Will she wear my necklace? Will she look a lady of the Capital or a Princess of Dorne? Will she wear white or gold? Or even red and orange? Will she be decorated in jewels of every colour, or remain graceful and subtle?_

Questions had flown through his head every minute that he wasn't with her. He'd pictured the day in his head time and time again, but so far, it had outlived every expectation he'd had. It was magical. And now the only thing that stood twixt William and Sarafine were the hours before their wedding night.

"I love you," he said to her again, kissing her cheek softly before another guest came to greet them and offer congratulations. This one was his mother. Will rose from his seat and walked around the table, hugging his most trusted advisor.  
"You look very happy," she rubbed at his strong arms.  
"I am," he nodded, "everyone seems to be."  
"I'm not talking about everyone. This is about you. You and your wife."  
"My wife," he breathed, loving the sound of the words.  
"Sarafine," Cersei took the new Queen into her arms and hugged her tightly. The King glanced Tommen and Myrcella at the table together.

William would admit that he felt a guilt at the lack of time he'd spent with Tommen and Myrcella during his reign as King. It wasn't uncommon for men in his position, but family was everything to him.  
"Would you bring them over here?" he asked Cersei gently. She nodded.

Doran came forward, giving his new son-by-law a strong and warm embrace that felt like family and home.  
"I've never been prouder of my daughter. Not just to marry her to a King, but to marry her to a _man_ like you. You'll not fail her, I know," he said, kindly. Words from his bride's father held great weight with William, but made him feel lighter all the same. He thanked the Dornish prince and embraced Trystane who had followed behind him.  
"Brother," Trystane addressed him.  
"Brother."

They patted each other's backs and Will wondered for a moment why Joff wasn't like him in that sense. Brotherhood was a gift of a thing, but sometimes he felt pushed away by his own younger kin. Nevertheless, he loved his stubborn blonde haired brother, and his sweeter younger one too.

Tommen strode up to him and Myrcella followed behind gingerly, dodging bodies while keeping a smile on her face.  
"Look at you!" Will grinned at them, embracing them both at once, "are you enjoying yourselves?"  
"Why, yes, of course," his sister beamed.  
"It's all very exciting," Tommen added.  
"Your gown is very lovely, Myrcella," Sarafine joined them. The golden haired princess smiled sweetly in her pale pink silks.

A sweet conversation that had waited all too long was soon over, and the newlyweds returned to their seats.  
"One day, this will be our son sitting here and getting married," Sarafine mused.  
"One day," he realised, "promise me something."  
"Anything."  
"No matter what comes of our kingdoms, let our children marry for love," he said, "I know we are lucky. But I believe they will be, too."  
She seemed to think to herself for a moment. "I promise."

Their pie was wheeled out on a table to the clearing between them and their guests and William could feel the heat of the afternoon sun on his cheeks. _Night only grows closer_ , he thought with excitement. He took the hand of his Queen and brought her forward with him.

A squire brought the King his sword and held the sheath while Will revealed the blade. His right hand curled around the hilt and his left arm held the hip of his wife.  
"Go on, put your hand over mine."  
"I can't swing a sword," she laughed, quietly.  
"That's what I'm here for," he smiled and she followed his lead, placing her hand half on his and half on the hilt. He adjusted his grip around hers and plunged it into their dessert; cutting all the way to the base with one gentle swing. His Queen looked back up to him and kissed his lips gently while their guests roared with cheers and hoots.

 _This is what ruling should be_ , he thought happily. They pulled the sword out together and the servers took over the rest. The sour taste of raspberries mixed with the sweetness of sugar and peaches filled his mouth, along with the pastry. She fed it to him and him to her, and he imagined that everyone at his wedding was likely sick of seeing them so in love.

William had forbidden there to be a bedding ceremony. He didn't want any man's hands on his wife and his Queen, nor any eyes wondering. He wanted to undress her himself and to look upon her himself only. No one had protested. William was the King, after all. Night fell upon his city and their feast raged on deep into the darkness, but he had somewhere else to be. They left in a litter at dusk and rode joy-filled up from the courtyards and to their Keep.

Kingsguards stood at the ends of each hallway to the King's chamber, and when William shut and barred his door behind the pair, they were well and truly alone. The room was lit to his liking; light enough to see but dim enough to sleep.  
"Before I say anything, I just want you to know that you don't really have to do this tonight if you don't want to," he offered, knowing full well what her answer would be. _It's the gallant thing to do_ , he thought.

Sarafine strode to him and crashed her lips against his. The King held his queen by her back, his arms curving around her and pulling them closer. _I am truly hers and she is truly mine._  
"I love you," she breathed.  
"I love you."  
Their lips met again and again and again and William felt his length grow hard against her. He held her forehead to his.

His hands brushed against her shoulders and travelled down her arms, meeting her skirts and laying his fingers against the fabric  
"I'll never forget the way you look in that dress," he whispered into her ear, wanting to live in the moment forever and rush to their bed all the same.  
"Good," she whispered, her hands holding his face, "I think it's time you see what's underneath it."

William, gentle as ever, unclasped her necklace and placed it on a table, where she placed his crown and then he her tiara. Her delicate fingers made for the belt around his waist, and soon it and his sash of black velvet were on the floor at his feet. She went for his surcoat next, unpinning it at every point and tempting him more the further down she got. Her hands stripped it back from him and he let it fall down his arms and to the ground by his other items.

His undershirt was quickly untied at the neck and he tossed it over his head, revealing his torso to her again as he had once before. She held his arms in her hands, running her finger over the scar and looking up to him with love-filled eyes. He kicked off his boots and she her shoes too.

His fingers found the lace at the back of her neck and let it loose. She shimmied the top of her dress down, revealing to him her torso in all its nakedness. Sarafine Martell was the finest thing William had ever seen. She turned her back against him and he hastily unlaced the top of her skirts, letting them fall too. She faced him again, her tiny body and plump breasts all he wanted to see for the rest of his days. He kissed her again, harder and hotter than he had before.

While he did, she unlaced his breeches and let them drop, revealing him. Without a word, he lifted her by her legs and held her at his waist where she coiled her legs around him and kissed him more and more. Carefully and recklessly all at once, he stepped toward his bed. Before laying her down, he tangled his hands in her glorious dark mane of hair, removing everything that held it together and letting it fall over her shoulders and down her back.

"I love you, William Baratheon," she breathed through kisses.  
"I love you, Sarafine Martell."  
He lay her body down on the bed and against the cushions and crawled over her. She nodded her head gently and kissed him again.

When he entered her, she groaned with an agony and a lust that only he would ever know. It pained him to pain her, but he'd never felt better or more alive. She dug her hands into his back and his lips found her neck as he thrust and thrust and thrust into her.

 _She's my Queen now,_ he smiled once he'd finished, _she's mine and I'm hers. For all our eternity._

The King and his new Queen spent their night with barely a moment of sleep and hours of touch and love. Her gasps of pain turned to ones of pleasure and everything was right in the world for him as he felt them move together in a way that made him feel something he'd never known was there. _Only she has this power over me,_ he knew.  
"I'll never love anyone the way I love you," she said, as if she were reading his mind. Her whispers became slurred and his eyes heavy. And eventually they drifted into a naked sleep against each other as husband and wife.

\- A/N -

Aw 3

William and Sarafine are _finally_ married, yay! :)

What did you think of this chapter? What do you think their first challenge as husband and wife will be? Let me know in a review!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you had a wonderful week!


	42. XI - Sarafine

_**SARAFINE XI**_

The Queen's eyes fluttered open as the morning sun of King's Landing fell across her face. She could hear the distant sounds of the Blackwater and its waves tapping at the shorelines. She could see her wedding gown and her husband's wedding surcoat on the floor in a puddle of fine silks. She could smell the sweet oils in her hair and on her body, but most of all, Queen Sarafine Martell could feel her husband's hands stroking her hair gently as she lay her head on his bare chest.

She looked at him as he stared out to the bay, his chest rising and falling in a soft pattern. Her right arm was draped over to his left shoulder and she began to touch his hair too, indicating to him that she had woken.  
"Good morning," she said, her voice croaky and tired but her body lively as ever.  
"Good morning," he smiled, turning his head to look at her, "did I wake you?"  
"No," she shook her head gently, admiring the sound of his voice first thing in the morning, "how are you?"  
"Never better," he kissed her forehead gently and raised his brows, nodding at her.  
"Never better," she agreed, propping herself up on her elbows and placing her face to his. His lips tasted just as sweet as they had the night before, if not sweeter. She laughed with joy and kissed him again. Sarafine felt a sweet sensation as his hand travelled down her waist, over her hip and to her behind, where he pulled her atop him, discarding the sheets that had covered her.

Sarafine remembered the common saying _shy as a maiden. What a falsehood_ , she thought. The Queen had felt no fear, no shame, no worry or hesitation as her King had undressed her and entered her for the first time. In fact, she felt confident. She felt like the Queen that she truly was. As she sat atop him, she pulled her hair off of her shoulders and let it fall down her back, allowing him to gaze upon her and her him. He went hard beneath her and quickly enough, they were enjoying each other again.

She held his hands all the while, squeezing them tightly at every sexual high and resisting the urge to scream his name. When they were both finished, he rolled her onto her back beneath him and kissed her again and again; on her lips and her neck and her chest. _This is all I've been waiting for,_ she thought, closing her eyes and savouring the moment, _and it hasn't disappointed._

A knock sounded at their door, which was still barred from the night prior.  
"Do you have to get that?" she pouted, holding him by the back of his neck. He pecked her lips again.  
"Cover yourself," he smiled, rising from the bed and taking a robe from a chair. She scrambled on the bed to find the sheets, holding them up to her chest when she did.

 _What a man_ , she watched him as he strolled to the door, _what a man, what a King, what a lover, what a husband. And he's all mine._  
"Yes?" he stuck his head through the doorway.  
"Your Grace, your family, and the Queen's are awaiting you in the Small Hall for breakfast," Ser Barristan reminded.  
"Oh, yes. We'll be there soon."  
"Yes, Your Grace."

The door was shut again and she dropped the sheet.  
"I rather forgot about that breakfast," Will laughed a bit.  
"What about my things?"  
"They're all here, don't worry. Most of them, anyway. I'll dress you," he smiled, taking her hand and pulling her out of bed.  
"Will, that's very sweet but I don't imagine you have any idea how to even lace up my gowns _or_ what to do with my hair," she smiled as he pulled on a pair of black breeches and laced them up.  
"I seemed to be alright at unlacing them, if I quite recall," he smirked, "how hard can it be?"  
"One day, we have guests awaiting us," she found her white robe in a cupboard and slipped it over her shoulders, tying it at the front.

She called for her handmaidens who soon entered, once the King was fully garbed of course. They helped her into a gown of red and gold brocade of a similar cut to her wedding gown regarding the caped sleeves. Two girls pinned a few layers of hair behind her head and placed rings on the fingers of each hand before William sent them off.  
"May I?" he asked, holding out her tiara.  
"It's our families, not the court," she reminded.  
" _Our_ court," he corrected with a playful raise of the brow, "but you are the Queen. I want you to wear it. For me."  
The Queen nodded and allowed him to slide it to the centre of her scalp, resting inbetween strands of thick dark hair. She held her mane aside for him to place her new choker around her throat. _I hope Cersei wears hers as well. What do I call Cersei now? Your Grace, I suppose...she is the Queen Mother._

"Shall we?" William interrupted her thoughts, holding out an arm for her to take as they left _their_ chamber.  
"You know what," she began, "that's the first time I've slept in any other room in the Red Keep but my own."  
"And how did you find it?"  
"It's a strange feeling, actually. Not that I didn't enjoy it but...I've just never known anything else here," she realised.  
"Your Grace, Your Grace," Ser Jorah and Ser Jaime bowed their heads, stepping in behind the King and Queen. She liked the ring of being called _Your Grace_ , though it would take some getting used to. _I've always been a princess_ , she realised, _I didn't quite realise just how much change came with this wedding_. She smiled to herself, happy with her situation nonetheless. Will kissed her cheek again.  
"What was that for?" she laughed.  
"Because I love you," he said, as if it were obvious, which it was. She kissed him again and said it back, as she always did.  
They reached the doors to the Red Keep's small hall, "let us go dine, my King."  
"Of course," he smiled, whispering, "my Queen."

The doors opened before them to reveal a room of Baratheons, Lannisters and Martells. Sarafine looked over them all in her regal garb. _They are my family, and they are my people._  
"Your Grace, Your Grace," they all rose in courtesy.

Everyone was there.  
Cersei, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. Doran, Oberyn, Trystane and Ellaria. Sansa and Margaery. Tywin, Tyrion and Kevan and Lancel. Stannis, his wife the Lady Selyse and their daughter Shireen, and even Renly. It was all very exciting. She wondered if there'd be another opportunity like this for them all. She hoped it was a _big_ and long breakfast. One by one, everyone greeted their new Queen and congratulated her on being _officially_ married. Her and Will sat on a table adjacent to two other long ones. Doran sat at Sarafine's left and Will at her right, and Tywin sat next to him. Everyone chatted and ate and laughed. _Are you sure we're at war?_ she almost asked, _this certainly doesn't feel like war._

Her and Lady Sansa stole a moment together between courses.  
"So...what was it like?" she asked eagerly.  
Sarafine furrowed her brows, "interesting. It was wonderful but, it takes time to get used to it."  
"How do you mean?" the Stark maiden whispered. _Shy as a maiden definitely applies here_ , she thought innocently. She saw Lady Margaery look at them.  
"Lady Sansa, this is hardly table conversation," she pointed a warning with her head, "meet me in my..."

 _Do I even have a solar anymore?_ she wondered, _I know William does, but I shouldn't just invite Sansa there without telling him..._  
"I'll come see you later today, or tomorrow maybe. We can discuss it then," she squeezed her confidant's arm.  
"I shall expect you soon, Your Grace," she farewelled at a louder volume, so that Lady Margaery would hear. Unfortunately, it got her attention more than either of them would have hoped.  
"Queen Sarafine," the Tyrell turned in her chair and rose from it.  
"Lady Margaery, how lovely it is to see you here," she spoke courteously, kissing both of the girl's cheeks and embracing her lightly.  
"I must thank you for your invitation. Your gown, is it new?"  
"One of my many wedding gifts, yes," Sara played at the sleeves.  
"I imagine you'll have enough gowns for the rest of your days now," she laughed.

Sarafine _wanted_ to believe Margaery's act, truly. Everything was so _good_ and she didn't want to be sucked back into their reality of political warfare. Instead, she laughed along and played the part.  
"I'm quite sure I do, though no doubt I'll procure more," she smiled sweetly, "I should probably get back to my husband. I'll see you soon, my lady."  
"Your Grace," Margaery nodded and Sarafine was soon free of her presence.

Despite what she told the Tyrell, the Queen made for Cersei, her mother by love and law. They shared a sweet and long embrace.  
"You're practically glowing," the Queen Mother cupped her successors cheeks.  
"I feel like I am."  
"You went alright last night, yes?"  
The Queen nodded, "yes, it was lovely. He was very gentle."  
"Good. I'm glad you're happy."  
"Do you think now that we're wed that William will look to wed Sansa and Joffrey?" Sarafine asked as she saw the prince stare in the Stark's direction.  
"I can't say," she sighed, "he's not giving anything away. Neither is my father."  
"Even now, that girl looks at me as if I've taken something of hers. As if this crown belonged to her and never me," Sara glanced in her direction across the Small Hall and back at the Queen Mother.  
"You haven't, Sarafine, you must understand that."  
"I do, I just want her gone," she sighed.  
"Let's not think on her anymore today," Cersei exhaled and smiled, "it's not worth thinking about."  
"Agreed."

The Queen sat by her husband again, his hand soon finding hers and lips finding her cheek.  
"Do you think we'll ever have this again? Everyone together?" she asked him.  
"I hope so," he breathed. She knew what it meant.

She glimpsed Margaery talking to Ser Loras and passing him something. Her stomach felt strange at the sight. _I don't trust him anymore either,_ she realised, _I can't._ He may have been Kingsguard, but Jaime had slain Aerys... _and we don't even know what the Tyrells really want._ Sara made a point to never let him be the only guard on duty, though she imagined it were not her business at all. _They're my guards, too, now,_ she realised. _Perhaps I have some say in who walks with me,_ she hoped, _Ser Barristan or Ser Jorah. Even Ser Beric Dondarrion or Ser Brynden the Blackfish, whenever he should return._

To her dismay, the feast soon ended and with it, the joining of their two families in the same room. Her father and all travelling with him would return to Sunspear soon, she knew. And Stannis to Dragonstone, with Renly to Storm's End so that the eastern coast may be defended. She said courteous goodbyes to them all.  
"Where to now?" she asked the King.

It was a strange feeling. Good but strange. They were wed now, but she wasn't quite sure what was to come after. _Ruling, I suppose_. She figured that her everyday life wouldn't be much different now. They'd just be together more. She liked that.  
"Back to _our_ chambers, I think," he smirked. They began the walk.  
"Out of curiosity, what happens to my old quarters?" she asked.  
"I don't know really," he admitted, "I hadn't given it much thought."  
"Neither. But do I have my own solar now or does it belong to both of us?"  
"Would you like to have your own?"  
"I...I don't know," she said, oddly.  
"Tell you what," he began when they reached their new room, "your old quarters can still be yours."  
"What? How do you mean?" she removed her tiara once they were inside again. He barred the door.  
"Well, you just keep them as your own private quarters. Instead of having to share everything with me," he suggested.  
"Will, I...I don't mind sharing with you, truly."  
"I know," he kissed her forehead gently and found the lace at the back of her dress, "but I want you to have them."

His fingers gently untied her fabrics, slowly and softly.  
"Are you sure?"  
"As a gift," he turned her around as to peel the gown from her. All she wanted was to be back in their bed.  
"You've gifted me with more than I could ever dream of," she said, the dress finally loosening at her waist.  
"Then let this be another," his lips touched her neck gently and he slipped the dress off her shoulders, baring her from head to toe.  
"I don't know how you have the energy," she laughed, feeling him press against her.  
"Neither," he laughed, spinning her to face him and allowing her hands to undress him again. 

\- A/N -

All these sugar chapters aw. The drama begins again soon, don't you worry! Haha :P

What do you think the Tyrells are up to? Let me know in a review!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you're having a lovely week so far! :)


	43. X - Joffrey

**JOFFREY X**

After days of celebration, the Small Council was convened again. All the high families had gone home, the feasts come to an end and the music sounded out. They were back to ruling now, and Joffrey found himself a bit relieved. _Something I can focus on, something to distract me_ , he thought as he made his way to the Tower of the Hand, Ser Lancel following closely behind.

William pranced in shortly after, his curls more unruly than usual. _We all know what he's been doing this morning,_ Joff raised his brows as he sat.  
"Fine day, isn't it?" the King breathed. The council members mumbled pleasantries. "Well, I believe it is. Word from Riverrun has indicated that the Frey siege is continuing to dwindle in numbers _and_ with the Dreadfort captured, the War in the North looks to be coming to an end."

The Prince shut his eyes to breathe for a moment. _If this is true, then Sansa may go home...if I don't make her stay._  
"And, word from the Iron Islands, Your Grace. My little birds have done their work. They say that Pyke now has a permanent scent of burnt timber from the half-constructed fleet's ashes," Lord Varys announced.  
"Wonderful," William spoke excitedly, "with the Greyjoy's now having nothing to offer their Dragon Queen and her nothing to offer them, we can only hope that either party will abandon their allegiance completely."  
"Very good," Tywin offered.  
"And they won't be offering the North or Casterly Rock anymore trouble now...with no way to get anywhere they wish to go," Cersei smiled.

 _Maybe the worst is over for now_ , Joffrey considered.  
"And in Mereen, Lord Varys...what whispers have we had from there?" Tywin asked the Spider.  
"Oh, many, my lord. The self-styled _Queen of Mereen_ is struggling to hold her title and her people thanks to our _Sons of the Harpy_. They've caused great discontent in the city and my birds in Astapor and Yunkai have reported discontent there too. It looks that the Targaryen will remain across the Narrow Sea for some time yet," he tittered. The King didn't look so pleased, but Joffrey's mind was preoccupied.  
"So long as our internal enemies are defeating themselves, it's time we begin to prepare _all_ our armies so that we are as ready as can be when the time comes. I don't care that it's far away - she has three dragons and we need to learn how to beat them," Will paced around the room. _Ever the protector._  
"It seems to me that now may be a good time to secure House Arryn, Your Grace. Let us broker an alliance, though a betrothal, perhaps," Petyr Baelish spoke up.

Joffrey watched as his mother's eyes shot arrows in the man's direction. He was treading on dangerous ground here.  
"If you mean to _sell_ my daughter for soldiers, Lord Baelish, I have no wish to hear of it," Cersei spoke firmly.  
"Lord Baelish speaks true," the Hand agreed, "I say we send Myrcella to the Eyrie for Robin Arryn."  
"The Knights of the Vale _will_ fight if we command it," Cersei insisted.  
"Lysa Arryn cares for nought but her son, she will not send the men protecting him to fight _our_ war," his Uncle Tyrion made a point.  
"It's everyone's war," Will reminded as he stared into nothing.  
"We're not making this decision now," the Queen Mother asserted.  
"Fine. We'll speak of it privately. Council is dismissed," Tywin announced.

The Prince hardly contributed to the meeting, instead itching to get to his chambers. I have to tell her, have to make her stay. He searched his room for pen and parchment, eventually finding it. He sat at his table, ink ready but mind blank. He knew everything he wanted, everything he felt...but not how to say it. _Is it too late? Have I left it too long to reply?_

He began writing.  
 _Lady Sansa._

 _Well, that wasn't very affectionate,_ he chastised himself, crunching that paper up.

 _My lady,_

He decided that could be perceived as too formal. It was impersonal.

 _My dearest Lady Sansa,_

That sounded too much like begging for his liking, even though that's what he was really doing. _Think, think, think._

Knuckles rapped against the other side of his door.  
"Lady Margaery to see you, my prince," Lancel called. Joffrey remained silent for a moment. Usually, he was thrilled to see her - but the Prince had realised something.

Margaery was not a woman he could _love_. She was kind, and pretty, yes. But she was not true. _Sansa is true_ , he knew it, _if she was ever false, she wouldn't have tortured me with silence for so long,_ he laughed to himself - everything making sense.

"Not now," he spoke back, "I'm occupied."  
"Y-yes, my prince," Lancel stammered.

For hours, Joffrey tried to put his feelings on the parchment without sounding like an idiot, but nothing worked. Until he got an idea.  
"Lancel," he opened the door.  
"Yes, my prince?"

"I'm going on a walk. Stay here. I'm not to be followed," he instructed, making his way down the hallways of Maegor's Holdfast in a desperate and nervous effort. His stomach churned and suddenly he wondered if his supper might spill from his mouth. Before he had time to think on anything, he had arrived.

He raised his fist to knock. _Oh, but maybe this is stupid. Maybe I should wait until I can think of what to write._ The door opened in front of him, unexpectedly.  
"Oh, Prince Joffrey. Forgive me," a handmaiden curtseyed, "would you like to see Lady Sansa?"  
"If she has a moment," he mumbled, anxiously.  
"Prince Joffrey to see you, my lady," the girl said.  
"Send him in," he heard, not able to see her yet. _She probably thinks I'm quite rude, coming at this hour._  
"My lady," he breathed when he saw her. She was in a nightdress and robe, her hair down but for small strands on either side of her head. The candlelight shone brightly against her hair and her eyes shone as blue and bright as the sea in the dimness of the room.  
"My prince," she curtseyed, rising from a chair.  
"A moment in private, if I may?" he asked. She nodded her head and her handmaidens scurried out, closing the door behind them.

 _I hadn't thought to get this far.  
_ "Is everything alright?" she asked.  
"Yes, I...I think so. My lady...I'm afraid I have a request to make of you," he began.  
"Why would you be afraid, Joffrey?"  
"Because I ask a lot."  
"You're worrying me."  
"The war is nearly over, Sansa. Your family may not have Winterfell back yet so I know that you won't have to make a decision now...but I ask that you stay here."  
"Forgive me, my prince, I'm not sure what you're asking," she laughed, timidly.  
"I ask that you stay and marry me, my lady," he said, finally.  
"Joffrey, I am so glad to hear you say this, truly," she beamed, seemingly unsure of what else to do. So he did.

Joffrey strode to her, quickly, and took his face in her hands and his lips against hers. Her gentle hands rested on his neck and he'd never felt anything more wonderful.  
"I love you, Sansa," he confessed.

\- A/N -

JOFFREY FINALLY CAME TO HIS SENSES! HOORAH!

Do you think things will work out for Joffrey and Sansa, or will the King betroth him to Margaery? Let me know in a review!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you have a wonderful weekend :)


	44. XII - Sarafine

_**SARAFINE XII**_

In her old chambers, Queen Sarafine let the contents of her stomach spill into a bucket for the fourth time that day. It had been some few weeks since the wedding, and whilst she wanted to enjoy married life with her William, her health - among other things - seemed to be getting in the way.

"Your Grace, the King to see you?" Ser Beric called from outside the door to her private quarters.  
"No, no," she barely choked, "not now. I'm...I'm just writing to my father."

She'd been lying about it all. _He'd want to help, I know,_ she reasoned, _but he doesn't have time to try to be my own bloody maester._  
"Your Grace, I'm afraid he insists."  
She wiped her face with a hot towel and sent her handmaidens away with the bucket.  
"The King is _not_ to see this, do you understand?"

The Queen sauntered to the door, praying to every god that she looked somewhat presentable.  
"My love," she addressed, "to my solar."  
He gave her an odd look, one of mixed laughter and confusion. She took his arm and they walked.  
"I haven't seen much of you this past week," he commented.  
"You're very busy, Will, as am I."  
"Sarafine," he sounded suspicious and she began to panic. _It's not his burden to bear._  
"I only meant that...I don't want to be getting in the way of things."  
"In the way?" he questioned once they'd entered the room, "you are my Queen," his hands cupped her cheeks.  
"And you my King, which means you have _many_ duties to attend to, none more than the war that we're _still_ in."  
"The Targaryen remains across the Narrow Sea in a manageable position and the Frey's are almost gone," he excused.

 _Well, you're certainly not making this easy.  
_ "Is there any word from the Greyjoys?"  
"None. They are quiet and staying that way."  
"And the Stark siege on Winterfell?" she plucked a grape from a plate and regretted it that very instant, placing it in her mouth anyway. Will's face fell somewhat and he sat in one of her chairs.  
"The Stark siege has so far been unsuccessful," he admitted.  
"See? Matters to attend too," she smirked.  
"I have more matters than war," he laughed, "like you."

William's hand found hers as she stood by him.  
"I can't help but feel like you've been avoiding me."  
"Nonsense," she laughed. His hand pulled her closer.  
"You've spent the last three nights in your own chambers."  
"I wanted to give you the solitude, and myself."  
"I'm beginning to regret that gift," he said, gently, "come back, tonight. Please."

She nodded, feeling the next round of illness about to overcome her. _Gods, not now_. The Queen pointed to the fruit bowl on the table.  
"This?" he asked and she nodded furiously, "what? Is something wrong?"  
She reached past him, grabbed it and emptied the contents, filling it with her own in as graceless a way as possible. William rose from his seated position and took the dish from her hands, setting it down and wrapping his arms around her.  
"Seven hells, are you alright?"  
She shook her head meekly.  
"We need Qyburn in here immediately!" he called, "the Queen is ill!"  
"Don't say that!" she shushed him violently, "if anyone knows I'm ill that looks bad on our part!"  
"You're human."  
"And don't I know it," she reached for the bowl again and emptied her sickness into it.  
"You need to lay down," his hand travelled up and down her back while she held herself against the table.  
"I _have_ been laying down," she slurred.

Before she could protest, King William put an arm around her back and another around her legs, tipping her into his hold.  
"What are you doing, Will? Put me down," she whispered, her eyes weary.  
"Taking you to _our_ chambers."  
"No, mine," she disagreed.  
"It doesn't seem to me you have much choice in the matter," he began walking and she leant her head against his shoulder.  
"Please, take me to mine. They're closer."  
"Fine," he adjusted his grip on her. The Queen closed her eyes, hearing only vaguely memorable voices of Kingsguards and handmaidens, maybe even Sansa.

After much hassle, Qyburn had prescribed her some potion to help her rest. She woke the next morning, feeling more exhausted than she had the day before - and ill, all the same. Her heavy eyes opened reluctantly, and she felt the instant sensation of a touch at her hand.  
"Will, you shouldn't be here," she sat up.  
"No, no," he gently pushed her back down, "you need to rest."  
"I am resting, you need to go," she spoke, her eyes confusing her. _These aren't my private chambers...he's had me moved back to our bed._  
"You're my wife, and my Queen, Sarafine. I won't leave you."  
"I don't want to get you ill, my love," she spoke anxiously. _What a great look in times of war, a King and Queen who can't keep their stomachs down._  
"Qyburn assures me it isn't contagious, it's alright," he toyed with her fingers, tangling them between his own.  
"What is it? Did he say?" she wanted to sit up but the thought made her want to _throw_ up.  
"Likely from something you ate, he believes. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, a sad look in his eyes.  
"I didn't want you to worry," the Queen admitted, battling against sickness and sleep.  
"My love," he laid his soft lips on her hand, "it's my duty to worry for you. Don't you know that?"  
"I do now," she muttered, "are you sure you even want me back in here? I don't want...to...mess it up," her eyes grew weary again.  
"Here is the only place I want you. I hated not having you here with me these past nights," he squeezed her hand in between two of his, "I thought you were angry with me."  
"No. No, of course not."

 _Gods, I feel terrible in more ways than one, now._

Days passed with the Queen seeing little improvement in her _condition_. It wasn't near as frequent now but she had begun to worry and so had her King. _Am I so eager to give up my crown?_ she joked to herself; more fearsome than humorous. When she was at least well enough to move around Maegor's Holdfast, she made way for her private quarters again.

Stepping in them felt strange. Sarafine had only known these rooms in the Red Keep to be her own, and while she loved them dearly - they weren't home anymore. She'd grown to love being at her King's side each night, rare as it may have been in the past week. She'd come to feel more comfort in his sheets and sleep deeper in his bed. She'd come to enjoy everything more in that room, but it didn't take away from the fact that she'd had another _home_ before.

As she looked around her private chamber, she took a moment to reflect on her years in the castle. It was on that balcony that William had brought her a bouquet of flowers; when she was twelve. It was in this bed that he'd kissed her forehead and warned of her the war that they were in now. It was at that table that her and Myrcella used to play with dolls and her and Cersei would gossip and discuss the matters of Queenship and their Realm. It was in that bath that she'd been prepared for her King, and in that mirror than she'd seen herself as he saw her in the Sept.

 _So many memories_ , she wandered about, sitting in a chair and awaiting the arrival of her dearest friend. The Queen thought about enjoying the wine that had been prepared for her, but thought better of it once she whiffed the smell and felt her stomach churn.

"Lady Sansa has arrived, Your Grace," a guard called through the door.  
"Send her in."

The fire-haired Stark entered the Queen's chamber, rushing to her the moment she laid eyes on her.  
"Gods, are you alright? I have heard all sorts of things! You're okay, aren't you?" she blurted as they wrapped their arms around each other.  
"I'm alright, truly. Something I ate, apparently," Sara shrugged, "I've hardly had the chance to speak with you for the past week."  
"Oh, it's been _torture_ ," Sansa sat, "Lady Margaery is nearly the only other mildly entertaining person and I don't even _like_ her."  
"Well, don't tell her that!" Sarafine laughed, "we still need her to believe that you trust her. If we're lucky, she might withdraw her wish to take your place."  
"That might not be so much of a problem anymore," Sansa blushed as bright a colour as her locks.

Sarafine cocked her head to the side. _There is something different about you,_ she noticed, _your eyes are shining brighter and your step has more spring in it. What could it be..._  
"What do you mean?"  
"Joffrey is in love with me," she smiled at her lap, fiddling with her hands.  
"In love with you? What, did he tell you?" Sara bobbed in her seat excitedly.

 _Finally, Joff,_ she laughed, making a point to go visit him when she was well enough.  
"It was a little while ago now but you were so ill and I just thought to wait-"  
"Oh, nonsense. You must always come to me with this good news. As you'd know, it's hard to come by nowadays," she raised her brows. _Curse that bloody war, and my bloody stomach._  
"How are things with William?"  
"Fine, in truth. But between being sick and having lied to him about it...I just want to go back to normal," she sighed.  
"Define normal," Sansa rolled her eyes, "has he made a decision on what to do with Margaery yet?"

The Queen sensed the anxiety in her confidant.  
"We haven't spoken of it. But it appears that things have changed on your end," she tried to deflect.  
"I don't want to go back to Winterfell, Sarafine. I want to marry Joffrey and stay in King's Landing now that I know how _good_ it can be," she beamed, a hidden sadness in her, "but I'm afraid."  
"Will won't send you home," the Queen tried to assure, unsure about the truth of her words.  
" _He_ might not, but what about everyone advising him? They don't care if we love each other; they care about alliances and what's best for the Realm."  
"Marrying you to Joffrey _is_ what's best for the Realm, trust me," she tried to convince.  
"You think so?"  
"I'll speak to William on it the next time I see him," she promised, "if he can see how happy you are...well, he is the King, after all."

Sansa and Sarafine caught up on petty court gossip for an hour or so before the Queen retired back to the bed she rest in. But when it came time for sleep to take her, she couldn't fall into it. Her King lay beside her, presumably asleep, whilst she stare out into the Blackwater. _Gods, what if Will has already decided on Margaery for Joffrey? Sansa will be heartbroken...and Joffrey too. And we'll be stuck with that damned Tyrell whore._

She turned over again, bothered more by her thoughts than the swirling of her gut. _And what would it matter anyway? If not Joffrey, then Margaery gets Tommen which will be just as dangerous. He's so sweet and innocent and she's so...not._  
"Sarafine," the King's voice broke through the midnight silence.

 _How does he even know I'm awake?_ she furrowed her brow.  
"Yes?"  
"What's keeping you up?"  
She turned to face him and the view behind, "nothing we need discuss at this hour."  
"If you're thinking about it at this hour, then maybe it is best discussed now," he propped himself up on his hands while she lay, staring at their ceiling.  
"Are you sure you can't just send the Tyrells back to Highgarden?"  
"Well, once Margaery's wed one of my two brothers, they are welcome to go wherever they like. Then again, I do need Joff here-"  
"Then _keep_ him here. Marry him to Sansa," she begged.  
"That's not going to rid you of Margaery. Besides, I need her to marry one of them to secure the Reach."  
" _Fuck_ the Reach," she turned to face him properly, sitting up, "I'm tired of hearing about it."  
"I'm tired of arguing over it. With everyone," he exhaled and she felt guilty. _He's only a man_ , she remembered.  
"William, I know that you will do what you feel is right. You've never failed to do the best for Westeros while you've sat that damned Throne. All I ask is that you can find good reason to let Joffrey wed Sansa."  
"They hate each other," he laughed.  
"No, Will, they don't!" she almost cheered, "quite the contrary."  
"It wasn't so long ago that Joffrey was cosy with this Tyrell, too. Believe me, I've argued with him enough."  
"What are you saying?" she questioned, confused at his angle.  
"That I'm not making an arrangement official."  
"What? Why?"  
"Joffrey has a fickle heart and I seem to have fickle Kingdoms, Sara. I can't just bind our Realm into an agreement because they're getting on well for _once_ ," he asserted.  
"Why not?" she said, more frustratedly than she meant.  
"Because I have more than just them to consider."  
"On our wedding day, _you_ asked me to promise you our children would marry for love. Why not the same for your siblings?" the Queen pleaded.  
"My siblings were born for this," Will sounded upset and she began to worry she was losing his interest.  
"And so will be our children," she reminded.  
"Are you angry with me?" she sensed hurt in his voice.  
"No," she gave up, "just disappointed."

The Queen rolled away from him to face the blank stone wall for the rest of the night.

\- A/N -

Marriage drama begins...

Do you think Will's coming to make a decision soon? Let me know what you think in the comments!

Hope you're all having a lovely week :)


	45. X - Cersei

_**CERSEI X**_

The Queen Mother stood at the King's Gate and watched as her only daughter climbed into the wheelhouse which would take her to her betrothed. Cersei held a straight face, reminding herself to be strong and calm. _I'm losing a daughter, but she's losing a world._

Myrcella was gracious and polite in her goodbyes, not shedding a tear. She was excited for now, but soon that would wear off; Cersei knew.  
"You can _always_ come home, my love," she had told her, "at anytime you wish."  
Lannister guards followed her on her path - thirty of them, by the looks; all mounted and armoured bearing the King's banner of the crowned stag and roaring lion side by side.

 _How long before I see her again?_ Cersei wondered as the door to the wheelhouse was shut, _I don't want to miss her growing up and being young. Don't let me miss it._  
She blinked back tears as they rode away, wondering if her Princess did the same. The Queen Mother looked beside her to her other children. William stood by his new Queen, stern-faced and kingly, whilst Joffrey stood with Sansa; both watching on with polite smiles. Tommen looked most like to cry, though he held it together as he stood with Margaery Tyrell.

 _When will we be rid of_ that _damned girl?_ she thought bitterly, _send her off to the Vale, not my daughter._  
The King's Party began it's way back into the city and to the Keep, a sullen silence about them as they climbed into their litters. She didn't like it one bit. People cheered in the streets, begging for glimpses of the royals in their finery. Every viewing panel in Cersei's litter was shut and in her moment of solitude, she let silent tears slip down her cheeks.

Of course, she could never resent William for it. Sending his sister away was a wise thing, but one that Cersei could never love. She thought back to a just over a month ago; everyone seated in the Red Keep's courtyard enjoying sweet wine, delicious food and the glorious celebration that was the Royal Wedding. _And now here we are and here I am; crying._

The Queen Mother composed herself once she felt them approaching the Keep. She was to meet with her father soon, and would not let him see her cry. Today, she was a woman on a mission. She may have lost her daughter to the Vale, but she would not lose her last born son to the Tyrell and her mysterious manipulations. She entered his office in silence as he sat at his desk and wrote what she presumed to be a letter of importance.  
"Father," she announced herself, "are you busy?"  
"I am the Hand of the King," he reminded.  
"Yes, of course," she nodded, sitting at the chair across from him, "I wanted to speak with you about Tommen."  
"You wanted to speak with me about Margaery, you mean," he corrected, glancing up at her and returning his eyes to his paper.  
"If things go to one of your two plans, they seem to be one in the same," she laughed, humourlessly.  
"Must we go over this again?" he set down the pen and leant back in his chair. _Not a good sign._  
"Yes," she insisted, "I said goodbye to my only daughter today, I will _not_ lose a son to the Tyrells."  
"You aren't losing a son, the crown is gaining an alliance," he muttered, seemingly uninterested.  
"And when you _sold_ me to Robert, was that what you were doing? Brokering an alliance?"  
"You already know the answer to that. And you seemed happy enough, so why do you complain now?"  
"I'm not complaining, I'm asking you to consider how I feel about this."  
"Cersei, you are my daughter and my blood and I value your opinion and your insight but in this situation, how you feel doesn't matter."  
"I'm the Queen Mother, _yes_ , it does," she objected, hopelessly.

His icy eyes looked at her blankly.  
"Is there anything else you'd like to speak about?"  
"No," her face fell, "no, that's quite all." She left his office in silence and defeat.

 _Gods, I hope Sarafine never has to fight this battle_ , she hoped.  
The new Queen had requested the family join her in the Small Hall for a dinner. She wanted to decline, to hide away in her bed and forget about it all, but her family needed her more. Reluctantly, she attended with everyone else.

"Are you well?" the Dornish Queen asked her as they sat beside each other.  
Cersei took a deep breath, "as well as one can be in my circumstance."  
"I'll make sure she's home soon, to visit. I swear it," the girl placed a hand over hers, "shall we drink to her happiness?"  
"We shall," the Queen Mother raised her glass and tapped it against Sarafine's.  
" _No, my Queen!_ " Ser Jorah shouted, rushing into the room, "it's poison wine!"

William threw the glass from the Queen's hand, spilling the red liquid on the floor with a shatter. Sarafine sat frozen as did Cersei, who placed her glass on the table and refused to touch it again.  
"How do you know?" William asked, almost a whisper, as the Kingsguard approached.  
"One of the tasters..." he began, not needing finish. Shakily, the Queen stood to her feet.  
"Sarafine," Cersei took her hand.  
"If you don't mind," she stuttered, "I'm so sorry."

She walked out of the room, her King trailing behind her in haste and Cersei soon electing to follow.  
"Keep them occupied," she instructed Tyrion on her way.

Within minutes, they had returned to Maegor's Holdfast and barred the door to her son's chambers.  
"Who did this?" Cersei demanded of Ser Jorah.  
"Can't say, Your Grace. The Spider is already investigating," he breathed, "it's said to be someone who knows the castle well."  
"Then the castle goes on lockdown," William instructed, "bring me Lord Varys."  
"Yes, Your Grace," the man bowed, leaving the three of them alone.

Sarafine burst into a flood of tears.  
"Someone _died_ in _my_ place," she sobbed into the King's chest, "someone tried to _kill_ me."  
 _Better them than you,_ Cersei thought.  
"I swear to you, my love, we will end whoever tried this."  
"We have to _find_ whoever tried this," she seemed to realise.

Lord Varys entered soon, a scroll in his hand.  
"What is this? Evidence?" the Queen Mother hoped.  
"Unfortunately not, Your Grace. News, more like," he handed it to her.

 _The flayed men have begun swimming to the kraken from a village of ashes on the Stony Shore._

"What are we to make of this?" William asked, with far more patience than Cersei.  
"There's soon to be a ship at Pyke."  
"How?" he questioned, "the entire North is against the Boltons."  
"Only the living ones, Your Grace. The dead can't choose sides," Varys spoke morbidly.  
Her eldest son looked to the ground, "how many?"  
"A hundred or so,"  
"Bring me an exact number and see to it they are all buried with respect by their neighbouring villages. I won't see them dumped in the sea."  
"Most of them are charred bones," he reminded before William shushed him, indicating his worry for his already traumatised Queen.

 _Gods be good, just when we thought it was over._

\- A/N -

Wow so much happened in this chapter.

Who do we think tried to poison Sarafine? And what exactly are the Boltons up to? Let me know what you think in a review!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you have a lovely weekend! It's my 18th birthday tomorrow yay! :)


	46. XI - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY XI**_

"Sit. We have _much_ to discuss," Will announced in a hurry, beginning his pacing.  
"What matter first, Your Grace?"  
"The good news. The Starks have retaken Winterfell from the Boltons," he said, matter-of-factly, "however, the Bolton's next move remains a mystery."

Joffrey stared at the wooden table in thought. _If Winterfell has become the Starks again..._ he tried to ignore it. _Sansa has to stay here, she must. I demand it._  
"There was a conflict on the Stony Shore. The Boltons put an entire fishing village to the torch before sailing off of the mainland in some fishing boats."  
"Their whole household?" Baelish inquired.  
"No, but Lord Bolton and his bastard were both aboard. It would seem they saw their hold on Winterfell coming to an end," Varys informed.  
"Wretched cowards," Cersei cursed.

The prince couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed, and for the most selfish of reasons. _So long as the Boltons held Winterfell, Sansa couldn't return home. And now they don't hold anything except a ship. And Will holds all the power._

Since his great confession to Sansa Stark, Joffrey had felt a mix of relief and fear. Part of him believed it was a mistake to have said anything, as if making it real confirmed his feelings. _I'm truly in it now_ , he had realised, _and maybe too deep_. He didn't want to consider the feelings that would arise if she were to be shipped off back to her home without him. _If I kept my mouth shut, maybe I wouldn't feel so vulnerable. But that kiss..._ he remembered again, not able to forget the foreign yet sweet feeling of her lips on his.  
"Lord Varys," Tywin started, "if the Boltons are headed for the Iron Islands, that means they're becoming weak."  
"I want them destroyed," Will instructed, stopping for a moment, "maybe if we send soldiers in secret. Northmen, perhaps. They should make it in time, yes?"  
"Like not, Your Grace," the Spider continued, "it would be in our best interest to have my little birds investigate their purpose there before taking any action."  
"The Northmen need to replenish their stocks and armies for future battle," the Queen Mother reminded, "best we let them do so."  
"Very well," Will nodded, continuing his walking.

Joffrey tapped his foot nervously, waiting for the inevitable discussion of his betrothal.  
"Now, onto last night's events," Tywin began.  
"Last night, my lord?" Pycelle stuttered.  
"The Queen was nearly poisoned," Cersei reminded him, her voice cracking like a whip, "Qyburn is investigating the body of the fallen taster and will like have an exact cause of death by this evening."  
"Is there any clues on who made the attempt?" Joffrey asked, trying to seem more interested than he was. Sarafine _was_ his sister by law and his Queen, but she didn't actually die, leaving Sansa a bigger concern in the prince's mind.  
"Every cook is to be questioned. Every server, too. And the other tasters," William instructed, his pace quickening in fury, "if any one of them seems to have an idea of how last night came to pass, by any means, this information is to be extracted."  
" _Any_ means, Your Grace?" Varys raised a brow.  
"Any," he insisted, "any whiff of treason is to be brought to my attention immediately. Council is dismissed."

The prince snapped his head up in confusion.  
"Dismissed?"  
"Yes? Unless you have another matter you'd like to discuss," William looked at him oddly. Joffrey felt the eyes of every council member. _Gods, how foolish I must look,_ he thought.  
"No, that's quite alright," he muttered, exiting swiftly.

Lancel fell in behind him.  
"My prince."  
"I'm going to visit Lady Sansa. Leave me be."  
"Lady Sansa is walking the gardens with the Queen, my prince," he began, "she asked me to tell you she'll return to her chambers soon."  
"Right," Joff slowed his pace somewhat, his march to see his lady becoming a more of a trudge.

He wondered if she'd heard about her family being home yet, and if it changed the way she felt about him. _I'll soon see where her heart truly lies,_ he thought. Her guards allowed him to wait in her room for her.  
"Joffrey!" she beamed excitedly upon entering. He rose from his seated position and walked to her, "did they tell you? About Winterfell?"  
"They did," he kissed her hand gently, "I must offer my congratulations to your family," his voice was more solemn than celebratory, and Sansa had noted it too.  
"You don't sound very excited," she remarked, almost laughing, "what troubles you, my prince?"

A sigh escaped him and he turned back to the chair he had sat in.  
"Share a cup with me?" he asked, pouring a glass of wine for her and another for him. She took it carefully, eyeing him with suspicion.  
"Have I upset you?"  
"No, no," he insisted, "you're about all I have to be happy about."  
"I would thank you," she sat, "but I'm more interested in why I'm the _only_ thing you're happy with."  
"William hasn't made a decision and doesn't appear to be making one anytime soon," he exhaled, sitting across the table from her.  
"But if the war is nearly over," she began, "no, Sarafine said he will let us marry."  
"I would like her to be right, Sansa, truly. But my brother is not giving anything away and so long as he doesn't, your stay here is uncertain," he said.  
"What does that even mean? Do you think it's better if I just go?" she began to sound offended and Joffrey regretted even meeting with her.  
"I want you here," he said.  
"Then _fight_ for me, Joff," she stood, "tell your brother how you feel about me and _make_ him choose me for you."  
"I am," he rose and cupped her cheeks in his hands, "and I _will_ , I will keep fighting for you. But we need to be realistic."  
"What about you and me is unrealistic?" she asked softly, her eyes sad.  
"It's not you and me, it's everyone else," he tried to assure.  
"Everyone else doesn't love each other, we do."  
"I know," he pressed his lips against hers again.

Before they could stop themselves, they were caught up in heated kisses. He began to pull at the ties on the front of her pink silk gown.  
"We can't," she breathed, sadness in her.  
"What if we could?" he said, his thoughts in a rush, "if there was a way?"  
"How do you mean?" she furrowed her brow, toying at a pin on his red leather jerkin.  
"If we just...got married without telling anyone," he suggested boldly.  
"Without the King's blessing, are you mad?" she laughed, tying her gown up again.  
He kissed her gently, "it would seem so."

\- A/N -

OOOOOh drama

What do you think Joffrey has planned? Let me know in a review!

On a side note, I've just started university and for the moment, my updates will be scaled back to once a week (every Friday), just so you don't think I've forgotten a chapter! Haha, hope you have a lovely week :)


	47. XI - William

_**WILLIAM XI**_

"Lord Varys to see you, Your Grace," Ser Jaime called from outside the King's solar.  
"Send him in," William filled his goblet with wine, his eyes staring into it as the eunuch entered.  
"Your Grace, how fares the Queen?" he inquired, bowing his head.  
"Shaken," he admitted. _And scared, and distant,_ "have your spies found anything yet?"  
"I'm afraid not," he sat, "one reports a strong lead but that is all."  
"Aside from identifying the poison as _the Strangler,_ Baelish has uncovered nothing, either," Will said, disappointedly, "this can't stand. If your spies cannot find anything I'll be forced to appeal to the people and offer a reward."  
"Which I would advise against, Your Grace. If your people know that the Queen was nearly poisoned...the people will see nothing but unrest."  
"We're in a war," William sipped on his wine, "unrest is the best way to describe our Realm...very well. If I can't appeal to the common people on a public stage, I'll need your little birds to do some work there as well."  
"Yes, Your Grace," Varys nodded, "will that be all?"  
"Don't tell my wife that you haven't found anything," he instructed, "she feels guilty enough knowing someone died in her place. Keep this from her mind as best you can."  
"My lips are sealed," he bowed, making way for the door. Minutes after Varys had left, Sarafine sauntered in.

Her gown was a deep crimson and gold brocade, complimented by the shining choker that matched his mother's. _Ah, my Queen._  
"You sent for me," she smiled. She made every effort to hide it, but William knew that Sarafine was terrified by the events of the dinner. Her nights had been restless, and on occasion she would talk in her sleep. _The taster...no...no...it should have been me..._ she would speak, and sometimes shout. Waking her wasn't easy, but he couldn't stand to imagine the hell her sleep was bringing her. Today, he wished to calm her with simplicity.

"It's been a long while since we've walked these gardens," William commented as the sun snuck behind the hedges, the afternoon sun beginning its journey into hiding from the night. His wife's hands on his arm were a welcome sensation.  
"Indeed, it has," Sarafine breathed, closing her eyes and inhaling the fragrance of flowers and the sea, "I've missed them."

 _And you_ , he mused, _I'm glad you're by my side again, today_. The waiting for an answer on the poisoner was worrying William, but he knew it was hurting her more. She didn't like that the taster had died in her place, though William couldn't say he was all that sorry. _I couldn't live without you, my queen,_ he knew, _but I thank the taster for their service in saving you._

His lips touched to her cheek gently, his heart feeling warm and calm in her presence.  
"I love you," he reminded her, "and I've missed _you_."  
Her touch moved to the back of his neck, and she pulled his lips to hers. Her touch was gentle and he could've lost himself in her kiss.  
"I love you," she whispered, holding her hands against his face.  
"Some days I wish we could run away," he breathed, "just you and I."  
"Hmm, I guess this is as close as we'll get for now," she looked around as did he.

The guards waited at every entry and exit, leaving the two entirely in their own company. They continued their slow pace.  
"No ruling...no subjects...no war..." he mused. _No poison, either._  
"What a dream that sounds like right now," she breathed, leaning her head against his shoulder. They reached a pergola, and stopped, his exhausted queen leaning against a post, "where would you run?"  
"Anywhere you lead me," he faced her, his hands holding her tiny waist and his breath close enough for her to feel it. He kissed her again, feeling her hot hands on the back of his neck. He held her body, _his_ wife's body, against his. _She's mine, mine, mine. All mine_ , he relished in the fact.  
"It feels like forever since we've..." he smiled, their foreheads pressed together.  
"Will," she said, concern in her tone.  
"What is it?" he laughed.  
"Will!" she screamed, hitting against his chest with the palms of her hands.

He turned, following her line of sight to a rather unfriendly looking and unidentifiable man. Before William knew what was where, the man had run at him and pushed him to the ground with a violent ram.  
" _No_!" the Queen screamed, "no! Who are you?" she begged.  
"Not anyone you need know, _Y'Grace_ ," he grumbled while the two of them struggled.  
"Sarafine," Will managed, avoiding a hit from the man whose knuckles instead collided with the stone ground, "Sarafine, run!" he ordered her. She disobeyed.

"Guards!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.  
To the King's horror, his attacker unsheathed something cold and sharp. As Will made every attempt to get back to his feet while his back was laid against the ground, a short blade was held against his throat. _Gods_ , he shut his eyes for a moment, _this is why we need an heir_. He wanted to look to his wife, but the blade was too close for him to crane his neck to the side.  
"You'll take that back, _Y'Grace_ ," he used the title as a mockery. Will could sense Sarafine's fear, but his attackers too, " _whore_ , take it _back_!" the man shouted.  
"She is my Queen," Will grunted, the fury of his entire household in him, "she is _your_ Queen."  
"William," Sarafine warned, "no, no! It's alright!" she called back to whoever had thought to respond to her call.

The man's arm was held so straight that it only required one movement from William, if he could get one of his hands free from under the traitor.  
"Take me instead," the Queen blurted, shocking Will even more than the intrusion.  
"What would I want with a Dornish whore?" he grunted.  
"Whoever sent you will likely understand the value of a Queen when she's taken from her King," she pleaded. _Thank the gods for you, Sarafine Martell._

The unknown attacker turned his attention to the Dornishwoman just long enough for William to free his right arm and punch the man's own into a bend, the blade sliding away from the King's throat. Before the traitor seemed to know what was where, Will grabbed the knife and threw it into the man's thick neck. Blood spilt all across his face and his jerkin. _Traitor's blood._

Once again, his life was back in his hands. The body fell to the King's side with the man's final choking breath. Will went to wipe his face with his hands as he sat up, but they were just as red and sticky. He looked to his Queen, who was trembling against the pergola.  
"Guards!" she screamed again.  
"Are you alright?" he asked her.  
"Gods," she breathed, falling to her knees at his side.  
"Don't touch me, you'll get blood all on you," he tried to stop her, his efforts useless. Her arms fell around him.  
"Who was that?" she asked.  
"Who was he working for, more like," the King breathed, his breath quick and heavy. She crawled over him and to the bloody corpse, reddening her hands as she searched his body for any form of clue. Will found himself unable to move, instead watching as his wife searched frantically.  
"William," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. In her hand, she held a pin. _A golden rose._ Her eyes looked at him knowingly, but he couldn't bear to think on it as the guards ran at them. She shoved the pin in the breast of her bloodstained gown and turned to their company.

"He's dead," she breathed.  
"Are either of Your Grace harmed?"  
"No," he insisted, wincing at the throbbing of his head from when it had pounded against the ground. His ribs ached too.  
"Fetch Qyburn to the King's chambers," Sarafine instructed, "and help William there, too."  
He felt a right fool, arms draped over the uneven shoulders of Ser Barristan and Sandor Clegane on his way back to Maegor's Holdfast. _I shouldn't have let him come near us, shouldn't have let myself...but she was right there and I thought we were alone..._ he couldn't help but blame himself.

 _I'm the King, the Protector of the Realm and I can't even protect my Queen and myself._

Soon after he was seated, refusing to lay in his bed, his mother burst into the room with Qyburn in tow.  
"My son," tears streamed down her sweet face, "Gods, what happened to you?" she wrapped her arms around him gently.  
"We were ambushed upon by an assassin," Sarafine informed from beside him, the blood washed from her hands and chest but still drenching her fabrics.  
"Sent by whom?" she near-demanded. William looked to his wife with caution, begging her with his eyes to not reveal the pin.  
"Yet to be revealed," she spoke, shifting uncomfortably. Cersei wrapped her arms around her too, not concerned for the contagious mess of their attacker's remnants.  
"Who else knows?" the Queen Mother asked.  
"Everyone in the room," he muttered, looking around at them all. Two handmaidens, Ser Barristan and Sandor Clegane, Ser Jaime and Ser Jorah, Qyburn and the three of them, "and I'd like to keep it as such. Tell only grandfather and Joffrey."  
"Of course," she nodded.  
"Your Grace, let me see to those injuries," Qyburn sauntered forward.

The cleaning of the blood from his face revealed a bruise or two and a cut lip that Will himself hadn't noticed with the adrenaline of the moment. His headache should be gone in a day or two, his ribs would take longer to heal, however. His pride... _that could take an eternity._ He went to run his hands through his hair, the task far more difficult than he'd expected. When he pulled them away, crusted blood bits dirtied his fingers and had stiffened much of his royal mane. _Nothing is right...nothing, except..._ her hand found his shoulder with a gentle touch.  
"Let me wash it for you," she smiled softly, her eyes glossy with tears, "I'll see to his wounds now, thank you. Girls, draw a bath for the King immediately. A large bath."

His hand squeezed hers tightly. _She's stronger than I, stronger than an army, my Queen._ When the steam began to rise from the grandly sized tub, his wife instructed that they be left alone for the rest of the evening and that the security of the Holdfast was doubled.  
"If whoever sent that assassin found out he botched the job, they'll send another soon after," she figured. Will couldn't really find words and let her do every bit of the talking. When their chambers were empty, but for them, she lifted him from his seat. Her pull was gentle enough, like because of her small size. His cup of wine was nearly empty again, but he set it down and allowed her to undo his jerkin and remove his undershirt.

Bruises came to light when his clothes fell to the floor. Deep purples and dark blues; they looked as painful as they felt. William winced as he poked at one, and figured they were worse on his back where most of the pain was coming from. _A bruised King,_ he thought, ashamed. She slid his boots from his feet and he removed his breeches, accepting her assistance into the scalding hot bathwater, which didn't bring him much pain at all in comparison. He sat back against the copper, gritting his teeth as he settled himself into a position of semi-comfort.  
"Lean your head back, my love," she whispered.  
"Don't you want to get yourself clean first?"  
"That's not important," she tipped hot water over his hair, soaking it in warmth.  
"I'm sorry for today," he admitted, "you shouldn't have had to see that."  
"You can't blame yourself, Will," she breathed, sadly.  
"I have to."

Her hands wrung out water from his hair, relieving him somewhat. More water added weight to it again and she repeated the process. The King wondered what colour the drops looked like as the Queen's fingers massaged dried blood from him, and for a moment William felt that he was dreaming.

"Are you alright?" she asked, gently.  
He hesitated a moment, took a deep breath and answered, "no."  
"I thought as much."  
"I just had it in my head that once we married everything would be fine but...here we are."  
"And we are lucky to be here. Take pleasure in that, at least," she pleaded.  
"Come here," he shut his eyes again, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He felt her move to face him and knew he couldn't hold it in any longer. His hand found her neck, and he smiled, as if touching her confirmed that she were real. And then he sobbed.

The Queen clambered into the tub, gown and all, holding his head against her chest. His sobs were heavy, soft, and heavy again as he replayed it all in his head. The look of fear in her eyes was worse than any sight. _I almost failed her, failed my Kingdoms, failed my house, failed my family. How could I allow that to happen in my home? If my enemies think it easy to get to me..._ he didn't want to imagine the plans against his loved ones.  
"I nearly lost you today," he cried.  
"You didn't," she reminded, "you won't."

\- A/N -

:(

What did you guys think of this (dramatic af) chapter? What do you think is going through Will's head right now? Let me know in a review!

Hope you've all had an awesome week x


	48. XIII - Sarafine

_**SARAFINE XIII**_

 _It's still not here,_ she realised as she stared out from her balcony to the Blackwater, _days have gone by - or has it been weeks? Now I can hardly remember._

In fact, she soon forgot when she sat at her vanity and pulled out her hidden discovery from days ago. The man who had attacked William was dangerous...but the sigil he secretly bore - _even more so_. She hated to look at it, to keep it in her and her husband's chambers, especially when his heart was so fragile. _But I need this, it's all the proof I have._ It was a pretty pin, really. Simple, but a golden rose was sweet on its own. All the same, she looked at it with contempt and hid it away the moment she heard a knock on the door.  
"The Queen Mother, Your Grace," her new page called.  
"Send her in!"

Cersei Lannister sauntered through the door, her blue-green silks flowing behind her in the light autumn breeze.  
"My love," she smiled, kissing Sarafine on both of her cheeks.  
"Sit," Sarafine beckoned, doing so herself. _I'm so tired, nowadays._  
"You look well," the Queen Mother commented, "considering."  
"I don't feel it, in truth," she revealed, "since being ill and the attack, I'm exhausted all the time. I could fall asleep this very second."  
"Have you spoken with Qyburn?"  
"Not as of yet, there are more important things that need to be attended to...such as..." Sara raised a brow and Cersei nodded knowingly.  
"There has been no word on the identification of the traitor _or_ who he was working for," she spoke, disappointing the Queen again.  
"Nothing at all?" Sarafine responded, somewhat shocked.  
"Believe me, I've chastised Varys for days about it. Apparently the man's tracks were covered rather well."

Sara's eyes floated to the drawer. _Not as well as you may think._ She thought of telling Cersei about it, but knew it was safer to keep her in the dark. The walls had ears in the Red Keep, and her and Will hadn't even spoken of it since they'd discovered it. Her love was reluctant to even mention the attack at all, though she imagined the Small Council forced him to, somewhat. _I have to make him do something about that, I may be the Queen but the attack was on him and I need his backing in this. And more evidence, perhaps._

"Mother," Will breathed from the door way, "what brings you to visit?"  
"Updating your Queen on the search for your attacker," she smiled, rising from her seat and hugging her son, "sadly, I don't bring much news."  
"Sadly, indeed," his eyes found Sara's, and she knew what his they were asking. She shook her head softly, and William looked to relax somewhat.  
"I best go, Myrcella has arrived at the Eyrie, so I'd like to write to her," she informed.  
"Give her our regards," he instructed. Cersei was soon gone from their room.

William stepped to Sarafine.  
"Thank you...for not showing it to her," he breathed, kissing her forehead.  
"The less that know, the better," she smiled, sadly. The Queen held his cheek in her right hand, thankful to feel him living and breathing under her touch. _He's here...he's okay. We're okay, for now,_ "do you think we'll ever find out who he was?"  
"Doubt it," he shook his head, pouring himself a cup of wine and downing some, "we'll never have real proof...not enough."  
"We _do_ have something...we just need something with it," she tried to convince.  
"How do we even know what that is? That damned pin..."  
"It's a _Tyrell rose_ , William," she whispered.  
"It's like to be a disguise to turn us against them...probably one of the Targaryen's tricks," he muttered, sipping again. She retrieved it from the drawer and held it to his face.  
"We don't know that," the Queen insisted, " _this_ could be our only lead. If we can find something else that implicates them-"  
"Why are you _so_ convinced that the Tyrells are against us?" he set his glass down hard, startling her. She swallowed.  
"Because I am," she breathed, "I've known it since they came and this only confirms it more."  
"You can't possibly know that _this_ ," he plucked the pin from her hand, "means anything without further proof. Find it and then we'll speak of this...until then, no more."  
"Will," she objected.  
" _No_ more," he set it down.  
"As you wish," she nodded, subtly taking the pin from the table, "excuse me."

 _If my husband won't help me, I'll have to do it on my own,_ she knew, _well...not entirely_.  
She hid the evidence in her bodice as she walked, soon arriving at Lady Sansa's chambers. Ser Jorah and Ser Beric followed her, but once her Stark friend opened the door, she dismissed them, requesting privacy.  
"Your Grace, is everything alright?" she shut the door.  
"I need your help, Sansa," she announced.  
"With what?" she smiled suspiciously.  
"You've been speaking with Margaery, you know the Tyrells better than I. Where are they now?"  
"Now?" Sansa raised her brows, "I believe Margaery is visiting an orphanage and that her grandmother is meeting with Lord Tywin to discuss the betrothal."  
" _Gods_ ," Sarafine cursed.  
"What is it?" Sansa's face flooded with concern and Sara knew she had to say something.  
"What I tell you cannot leave this room, do you understand?"  
"Of course."  
"I have reason to suspect the Tyrells for treason," she admitted.  
" _Treason_?" the Stark repeated, unsure.  
"Yes, I can't say much more until I'm sure which is why I need you."  
"What can I do?" the girl seemed shocked.  
"Come with me...to search for evidence," Sara requested, taking the hands of her friend.  
"Evidence like _what_? And where would we even _find_ it?"  
"Their chambers! If Lady Olenna isn't there, like you say, then we sneak in and have a look for anything that would...implicate them," Sara put forward her plan.  
"How do you plan on sneaking past the guards?"  
"The guards are all Baratheons or Lannisters, they'll ask no questions," she waved her hands nonchalantly, "now is as good chance as any we'll ever get."  
"You're lucky you're the Queen or I'd never agree to this," Sansa shook her head with a laugh.

Admittedly, Sarafine knew what she was doing was wrong. _But it's for the greater good. Of my marriage, my family, my Kingdoms, the future of the Realm._ She didn't like that she felt like the criminal, having to sneak around and act in secret when she was innocent of anything. _This isn't fair_ , she thought to herself as they walked through the halls. The Queen kept her eyes out for familiar faces, though everything seemed empty enough, as usual.

They travelled down a few flights of stairs and reached the Tyrell quarters. Sansa took Sara's hand and lead her to the chambers of Lady Olenna.  
"Is the Lady Olenna here?"  
"Not presently, Your Grace. We can send for her if you like?" a guard offered.  
"No, no, that's quite alright. I've a letter to deliver her, if I may?" Sara improvised.  
"We'll place it down for you, if it please Your Grace?"  
"Oh, I haven't written it yet. I was hoping to use her supplies...I'm still quite exhausted from my illness, you see, and I don't have the energy to walk to my solar and back," she spoke, praying to the Gods that they would believe her story and not ask more questions. They were bound by oath to let her in... _the Maidenvault is in my castle, after all_...but she could at least make it look normal.  
"I see, Your Grace," one of the men opened the door, "and we'll keep quiet about this visit, yes?"  
"Thank you," she nodded, embarrassed. Her and Sansa entered the room and heard the door shut behind them.

Sarafine knew she would be short on time, and immediately raced to Olenna's desk. Papers filled it. Some letters, some blank pages, and a large book. _Something here has to mean something, reveal something, anything._  
"What are we looking for?" Sansa sidled up to her, gazing over the piles of papers.  
"Anything suspicious," the Queen handed her some papers, "look through these. And check the seals, too. They might tell us something."

She read over letters, most of them carrying no meaning at all but for information on trades of grain and livestock. All but one, which almost slipped her attention.

 _Our next man will not fail and Lady Margaery's marriage will be secured by the next moon,_ one page read. It's seal was unrecognisable to Sarafine. This one had been hidden well enough... _what doesn't she want anyone to know_? She folded the parchment and stuffed it in her bodice, beside the pin.

She brushed another page off of the large book, revealing the title "RECORD OF ACCOUNTS", in large golden letters. The Queen heaved the large object open to the marked page, reading as quickly and competently as she could.

Then she spotted it, exactly what she needed.

"What's this?" she thought aloud.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Look here, everything else is marked but for this one payment, which is a reasonable amount for a royal assassination," she traced her finger along the line, looking at the numbers and her discovery in a mix of disgust and triumph, "there's no telling where this payment went."  
"Or where it _didn't_ go," Sansa mused.

Sarafine heard rumblings outside the door, and then a voice that made her as ill as some weeks ago.  
"She's back!" Sarafine whispered, panicking.  
"Where do we go?"  
"The bed, get under the bed," she thought quickly, shutting the book and trying to make everything appear untouched, "go!"

They scurried quick as they could for the bed, ducking their heads under the frame and kicking their bodies under. The blankets appeared to cover their presence well enough, and as Sara rolled to a position of comfort the door opened.  
"Go on, the King has called everyone to the Throne Room for an announcement and I need to be changed," Olenna instructed. _What is he calling everyone to court for?_  
"But you only just got dressed earlier m'lady," a handmaiden reminded.  
"And now I want to be dressed in something new. Get on with it," the woman instructed. Sansa and Sarafine squeezed their hands together and for a moment the Queen had to remind herself that she had more power at court than Olenna and needn't worry all too much about being found. _Though if Will were to hear of this..._ she decided not to think about his disappointment.  
"Is this one to your liking, m'lady?"  
"Gods, no, not for this! This is too important...I need to look right. We aren't receiving a guest at Highgarden," she chastised the handmaiden before continuing, "this moment could define our family, our house - for better, or worse."

Sara and Sansa looked to each other in the dim light. _She knows that we're onto them, it's her, it's them!_ She knew she was right... _now if I could just get that page..._  
"Get me that rose pin, too," Olenna continued.  
"You gave it away m'lady."  
"That I did," she admitted, unknowingly, "the necklace then."  
Thrilled with knowing she was right and livid with hatred, the Queen had to resist every urge she had to jump out from under the bed and strangle Olenna herself.

 _That's not the way...I can't kill her without a trial and a trial only happens if I bring forward the evidence._  
"Alright, let's get on to see the King. All of you," she instructed and after a flurry of footsteps and the shut of a door, Sara poked her head out to check they were alone. She quickly gave Sansa the all clear. They slid out gracelessly, standing up.  
"Did you hear all that?" Sansa whispered.  
"Of course, I couldn't miss it."  
"Then they're guilty?"  
"I believe so..." she exhaled, "but I still need to convince William. Gods, we have to go! He's called everyone to the Throne Room and he'll know if we're not there."  
"The page, of the book, you need it."  
"We don't have time," she panicked.  
"This could be your only time," Sansa reminded, opening the book and tearing the page carefully so to look as if nothing were missing, "my brothers used to do this to my story books back in Winterfell."

She handed the parchment that told it all to Sarafine, who folded it and shoved it in her bodice with everything else.  
"To the Throne Room, then?" she held out her arm. They rushed there, each checking the other's appearance. Like, it wasn't enough, but they were called on late notice and would use that as their excuse. Upon their arrival, the room was overflowing with lords, ladies and all the like, each of them bowing their heads with a _Your Grace_ as she passed them to reach her husband. Sansa and her ascended the steps, the Stark departing to her betrothed and Sarafine to William in the chamber behind his great iron chair.  
"Where have you been?" he kissed her cheek when she rushed in.  
"Minor appointments," she lied, guilt stabbing her in the heart as she did, "what's this about?"  
"You'll soon see," he breathed, walking out to his Throne.  
"All rise for William of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," an announcer called. William took his seat and Sarafine took hers on a small chair next to him.

The King stood soon enough, calling Tywin forward to read from a great scroll.  
"It is hereby declared that any man, woman or child found to be involved in or knowledgable of treasons against the Crown, specifically the King and Queen, are to be publicly drawn and quartered...until death. These are the wishes of His Grace, William Baratheon, in the interest of the safety of the Royal Family. The small council consents."

Sara looked to Will with wide shocked eyes.

\- A/N -

Will's really not messing around here yo

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Do you think William will believe Sara's evidence? Or will he cast it aside? Let me know in a review. Also, hmu if you watch Reign cause I _just_ got up to date and I want to chat about it lol.

Have a lovely weekend guys!


	49. XII - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY XII**_

"My brother cannot know of this, are you clear?" Joffrey reiterated. The men nodded in response, "good, off with you then. See to it you deliver the Septon his...gift...and be at my chambers within the hour."

The men scurried away. _Done_. A smile spread across the Prince's face. _Today is my day, finally, it has come._  
"Lady Sansa requests your presence at her chambers," Lancel informed.  
"Yes, of course," he nodded, making his way there with haste, "are the ladies there?"  
"As requested."

The Prince had a nervous spring to his step, looking left and right, forward and behind to check for anyone who may compromise his plan. _Nothing so far...but is this too good to be true?_  
"I'll be speaking with Lady Sansa alone. You'll find what you asked for back in your homes if you make sure no one but these women enter," he told the guardsmen outside her door, pointing to three girls in handmaidens garb.  
"As you wish, my prince," one of them spoke. He entered without objection.

"I'm surprised you sent for me...it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding," he glanced over her seated figure, sheathed by a robe as she played at her face in the looking glass.  
"This isn't our _true_ ceremony," she turned to look at him, "only insurance."  
"May as well enjoy it anyway," he laughed, "you're not dressed yet."  
"I wanted to wait for your word," she stood, walking to him and laying a gentle kiss on his lips.  
"And so you have it."  
"It's done, then?" she beamed as he took her delicate hands in his.  
"It's done, we will wed today," he smiled, his blue eyes lost in hers.  
"Oh, Joff!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck, "how on earth did you manage it?"  
"Being half-Lannister is good for some things; money being one of them," he spoke, lowering his volume somewhat.  
"Forgive me, I'm not sure I quite understand?"

Joffrey had made sure to keep his lady in the dark until everything was settled. She didn't deserve the burden, she'd suffered enough.  
"Bribes are keeping everyone quiet and making sure this all goes to plan. Heavy bribes," he informed.  
"Will I still have to do my own hair?" she asked, somewhat saddened.  
"About that...I know this isn't the wedding you dreamed of...nor me...but it should at least be somewhat fit for a princess," he walked back to the door and opened it, "girls," he called for them.

Three well-bribed handmaidens entered the soon-to-be-Baratheon's chambers.  
"Joffrey," Sansa smiled warmly.  
"Get to work, ladies. I'll expect my bride to look every bit the Queen," he instructed, adoring her every glance, "I'll see you soon, my love."  
"Until then," she nodded and smiled, and with that he left her in the care of his briberies.

Cautiously, he exited her chambers, leaving Lancel outside the room as her guard. He hoped he wasn't appearing suspicious, but indeed he looked quite the opposite. His hands were sticky with sweat as he walked through Maegor's Holdfast.  
"Joffrey," Queen Sarafine addressed him. _Gods, not now._  
"Your Grace."  
"Oh, please, you know you don't have to call me that. It's been nearly three moons since my wedding...I won't remind you again," she smirked.  
"As you wish," he nodded respectfully, "where are you headed?"  
"Lady Sansa's chambers," she breathed, "I haven't spoken to her in days."  
"She's not there," he panicked, "Sansa's in the Godswood, praying. I had hoped to visit her myself."  
"Oh, odd. A guard just informed me she was in her room with her handmaidens," Sarafine seemed to buy it, "I'll visit her another time."  
"It seems we are both disappointed by her absence," he said and they soon parted ways. Joffrey prayed to the Gods that the Queen wouldn't read any further into it.

He returned to his chambers and shut the door behind him, barring it. Out of a trunk, he pulled a golden surcoat embroidered with ivory and the pale greens of Sansa's sigil. The Prince dressed himself, knowing there was no time for him to bathe. He was running on a tight schedule today... _and gods forbid that I trip_. Over his shoulders, he placed a traveller's cloak of brown wool, which would leave him unrecognisable as he rode through the streets to a small Sept in the city. Getting out of the castle, he thought, would be the hardest part. He kept a nice full pouch of Lannister gold at his side, ready to bribe anyone that stood in his way.

When he made it to his horse, a plain looking brown mount of no great stature, he rode hard and fast out of the Red Keep, tossing a coin at a guard who he nearly rode down. His heart raced inside his chest as the horse slowed to a trot through the peasant-streets... _I'm about to defy the King. To defy my family, my position, the North and the South. The Realm and every god that exists within and without it. May one of them smile on me with favour...and my brother, too._ He made sure to check behind him for followers, but aside from two bribed guardsmen in similar cloaks, he was alone.

His arrival at the small and insignificant Sept had seemed all too easy, but he counted it as a blessing and stepped inside. The Septon was the only man there, and Lady Sansa was expected to arrive at any moment. Joff removed his cloak, draped it over a seat, and stood beside the man. Then he remembered... _a cloak, I haven't arranged a cloak_. He picked it up, hoping it would not disappoint her.

The doors opened again, and in stepped his bride. Sansa looked more lovely than ever, in his eyes. Her hair was carefully braided to one side and her ivory gown framed her figure beautifully. _She's a Northerner...and she's soon to be mine._  
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the Septon spoke hurriedly as soon as Sansa approached the two of them. He placed the brown wool over her shoulders, not sensing a hint of sadness in her.

"Let it be know-, um..." the Septon stopped, and the three of them looked over the empty room.  
"Just get on with it," Joff muttered.  
"...that Sansa of the Houses Stark and Tully, and Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, are now b-" the doors burst open again, startling them all.  
"You'll rescind that before you finish it," the King's voice boomed, the point of his sword aimed at them.  
"Your Grace," the man stuttered.  
"Seize him," Will instructed his Kingsguard. _No, no, no. How could this have happened?_

 _What have I done?_

\- A/N -

Uh-oh, Joff...bad move.

What do you think William will do about Joff & Sansa's attempt at eloping? Let me know in a review!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you have a lovely weekend :)


	50. XII - William

_**WILLIAM XII**_

Filled with fury, King William marched toward his brother, holding his sword up all the while. _How could you?  
_ "Sansa," his Queen called, "come here."  
The King pressed the point of his sword against Joffrey's garb, twisting it slightly.  
"Think about what you're doing," his brother spoke.  
"You would tell _me_...your _King_ , to think?" William was outraged. Livid.

Joffrey's eyes looked to the sword with fear.  
"Will," he breathed.  
" _I am Your King!_ " he shouted, "and you would _defy_ me?"  
He jerked the sword enough to make Joffrey jump, and the blonde prince fell on his backside, clambering to regain his footing.

"How _dare_ you?" William shouted, startling everyone in the room. His eyes were black with rage and his face red with fury, he knew, but he could not stop.  
"I didn't do it for you!" Joffrey argued.  
"I won't hear your point. Your reason. I don't want it," he looked at the _boy_ with contempt, "do you even understand what you've done? Do you have any notion of what this could do?" his voice was low and angry, his sword still in hand and ready. Joffrey stood and Will held the point up again.  
" _William_ ," Sarafine spoke his name. He turned to see her, practically cradling a teary and red-eyed Sansa Stark, "think."

He dropped his blade to the ground, the clang of metal on the crude Sept floor the only sound in the room.  
"No one can know of this...this is treason and I would have to execute you. Execute...my own brother...my _friend_ ," he began to calm.  
"Then maybe you should..." Joffrey surprised him, "it's what you want, isn't it? To get me out of the way?"  
"Out of the way? Are you mad?"

Joffrey looked to his lady, as she clutched at Sarafine's arms and cried, "Joffrey, _don't_!"  
"Mad? For her, yes," he insisted, his ever-present cockiness remaining on his face. William lost his cool again.  
"You're a _prince_! This isn't up to you!"  
"I just _made_ it up to me," he huffed.  
"You're a fool to think so," William spat, pushing the Prince back to the ground with all his strength. He heard a cry from Sansa and a shout from Sarafine, but he did not listen as he hurried above his brother and smacked a balled fist against him. Again, and again. Joffrey pushed back once, but Will had the fight before it even began. They struggled for some time, and then Joffrey gave in. Will didn't until he saw the eyes of his brother blacken with bruising. And even when they did, he wasn't satisfied.

The prince coughed and breathed shakily.  
"Will," Sarafine whispered gently, "Will, that's enough."  
Her hand found his shoulder, easing him away and into her arms. His lip was cut open and his other injuries had taken a setback on their road to recovery. The fit of rage had overcome the King, and now he felt nothing but shame.  
"Where do you want him, Your Grace?" Ser Jaime asked.  
"His chambers. Bring Qyburn to him," Will instructed.  
"Forgive me, but shouldn't he be seeing to you first?"  
"I'm fine."  
"William," Sarafine warned.  
"I'm fine," he insisted, "my brother and the Lady Sansa are not to leave their chambers until otherwise instructed. Double the guard on their doors."  
"Your Grace, please," Sansa begged.  
"We'll return to the Keep, now," he demanded. Sarafine's eyes were filled with emotions he could not read, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know what they were.

He went to the Tower of the Hand, where he knew he faced embarrassment. _Control yourself, William_ , he had tried telling himself...but it had failed. _I am my father's son, am I not? A Baratheon of Storm's End with fury in my veins?_

"You beat your brother?" his grandfather repeated the tale as a question. William stood in front of him and his mother, and he didn't feel like a King at all.  
"Yes," he repeated.  
"My son, are you alright? Where is Joffrey?" Cersei begged with worried eyes.  
"I am fine. Joffrey is confined to his chambers where Qyburn is seeing to his injuries. He is to _stay_ in chambers...until I see fit to release him."  
"Release him?" Cersei questioned, and was ignored.  
"And you found them in a sept, yes?" Tywin confirmed.  
"The Septon had begun the ceremony. They defied me...defied this Kingdom."  
"William, I understand your frustration," Cersei began.  
"Then _don't_ you defy me too. He got no more than he deserved."  
"He's your _brother_ ," the Queen Mother reminded.  
"I am aware of that," William insisted, pacing.  
"Then treat him with kindness," she asked, hopefully.  
"Like he did me? And Sansa when he first met her, for that matter..."  
"Well, it seems that's all there is to it," his grandfather stood, "Joffrey and Sansa will remain confined to chambers until further instruction from Your Grace."  
"Father, this is ridiculous," Cersei shook her head, refusing to believe it was anything but a cruel joke. _A joke on me, perhaps,_ William thought.  
"Don't chastise me...I'm not the King," he exited the room.

The Queen Mother stood and approached, holding Will by the arms and looking up into his eyes.  
"William, you must _speak_ to Joffrey."  
"I've had enough words with him for some time. He's lucky I'm not holding him in a cell," he spoke, voice full of contempt.  
"Am I able to visit him?"  
"No."  
"He's my _son_ , Will."  
"And so am I."  
"I see," she cast her eyes to the ground. Regret filled him.  
"Mother," he called, "it's not forever."  
She looked at him, nodded, and left without further word. _Not you, please, not you, too,_ he wanted to say, but pride seemed to stop him.

The King found himself alone in the room...feeling less of a King than ever before. _I'm powerless over my own family,_ he saw, _and they hate me for trying to make it otherwise._

Upon his return to chambers, once night had set in, he found his love pacing furiously.  
"Sarafine," he began.  
"What in seven hells were you thinking?" she demanded of him.  
"What was _I_ thinking? I'm confused..." he breathed, suddenly frustrated again.  
"You beat your brother bloody in front of a full compliment of guards and the girl who is to be his wife! Not to mention, myself, too!"  
"Joffrey deserved what he got."

Sarafine shut her eyes for a moment and took an audibly deep breath.  
"I understand that you are angry, believe me, I do," she started, "I'm furious with Sansa for defying you but...you didn't have to hit him."  
"You're right...but I wanted to and...I couldn't stop myself."  
"I'm aware of that," she near laughed. William strode to her.  
"I cannot let my own brother betray me without consequence...if anyone found out about that I'd be forced to have him _and_ Sansa drawn and quartered outside the castle," he insisted, knowing the danger they'd put everyone in.  
"And blackening his eyes was the best way to avoid that?"  
"No, it wasn't," he confessed, "admittedly. But he needed to be punished."  
"Don't be that kind of King...I beg you," she walked away from him.  
"I'm sorry."  
"Your lip is still bloody," she informed him. The King held a finger to his lip, crusted blood falling onto his skin again. _Gods, I'm always bleeding somewhere._  
"Indeed it is."

She dipped a cloth in water and brought it to him, wiping the blood away herself. He calmed.  
"You don't have to keep doing this...patching me up."  
"So long as you keep injuring yourself...yes, I do," she argued, gently, refusing to look him in the eye.  
"Thank you."  
"You're welcome," she pulled the cloth away and took it to her dresser.  
"What are you thinking about?" he begged to know. A period of silence ensued before she answered with a question.  
"Will you ever let them marry?"  
"Please, don't ask me that," his heart sank again, "not after today."  
"William, they love each other," she said, her voice firm and strong, "they are like brother and sister to me, our Kingdoms _need_ this."  
"They don't need treason," he attempted to deter her from the idea.  
"Sansa _is_ the best option, this I know!" she smiled, "her treason has been far less than that of your other choice for Joffrey."  
"That you _don't_ know," he argued, "you have no evidence of treason from the Tyrells but for that stupid pin."

Part of him wanted to toss it out the window there and then, into the gardens or a drain where no one would find it or think anything of it. Then it would be gone and so would the wall between him and his wife.  
"If only you would hear me," she walked to him.  
"I _do_ hear you, you are _all_ that I hear and all I ever want to hear but not like this," he cupped her face in his hands, _mine, all mine,_ "not with bitterness and an agenda. Just be my wife for tonight...not my Queen, not the Princess of Dorne, not anything but the love of my life," he begged, his hands falling to her shoulders and exposing them swiftly.  
"You know I am yours," she whispered, "always."

Her lips fell in with his and the thoughts of the day and its conflict faded from his mind as he unlaced her and she unlaced him. _I've missed you, I have_. Their illnesses had prevented love in its physical form for too long, and now he didn't care for his bruises or his titles, he only wanted her. She eased every ailing and made right every wrong. _Mine, all mine, all mine._

He permitted her to see Lady Sansa the following morning, however regretfully. The King chose to remain alone, avoiding a council meeting and any other appointments until the return of his wife.  
"Lady Margaery, Your Grace," his page called.  
"Lady Margaery?" he furrowed his brows.  
"Yes, Your Grace."  
"Right...um, send her in," he permitted, confusion filling him. She entered soon and the door was closed behind her. _This feels wrong._  
"I hope I do not disturb you, my King, I just...wanted to check that you were recovering. I was...somewhat compelled to after hearing of your injuries," she spoke in her unmistakable tone of grace and concern.  
"Oh...I'm fine, really," he attempted to end the conversation, "is there anything else?"  
"Forgive me, if I speak too boldly but...I understand that it must be difficult to have received some of these injuries from your own brother," she stepped closer, "are you alright?"

 _Word spreads quickly_ , he panicked, hoping to the Gods that no one outside of the Keep had found out.  
"How do you know?"  
"I've lived in your castle for over a year now, is it that hard to believe that I'm aware of the happenings?" she raised a brow and he coughed awkwardly. _Say something, say something,_ "do you mind if I step on your balcony? I've not seen the Blackwater from a room such as this which can only have as grand a view," she spoke, her doe-like eyes childish with wonder.  
"Yes, yes of course," he granted, somewhat flustered. He followed her outside and leant against the stone, admiring the sun as it glistened against the water. _There's only one sight more beautiful than this._

"My brother always used to write to me about how beautiful this city was when I was in Highgarden...he told me I would love it," she mused.  
"And do you?"  
"Very much so, it's a grand city. One with so many tales of history in its foundations..."  
"Are you a student of history, my lady?" he inquired.  
"Why, of course. It's my favourite thing to learn about," she breathed, "being here...it's like I'm connecting with it all. Does it feel strange to sleep in the bed of past kings?"  
"It's my own mattress, actually. My mother keeps the one that her and my father shared during his reign," he responded, awkwardly.  
"Oh, right. I understand," she said, "right there, that's where my father's men marched on the Greyjoys," she pointed.  
"What a victory it was," Will remembered.  
"Yes...and now here we are," she turned to him, batting her eyes.  
"And there...right there is where I asked Sarafine to marry me," he deflected, pointing to the spot.  
"How lovely."

William breathed deeply, and all too loudly, eliciting concern in the Lady Margaery.  
"Are you alright, my King?"  
"It's just a tense time," he admitted.  
"Then maybe you need to relax..." she spoke pulling the bodice of her dress down to her waist, revealing her bare chest to him. His eyes found the ground as quick as they'd found her breasts and he flushed with embarrassment. _Gods, if anyone saw this..._ he panicked.  
"Lady Margaery."  
"Your wife speaks with Lady Sansa as we speak here and now...surely that bothers you, yes?" she touched his arm and he flinched, turning away and stepping backward into his room.  
"Who my wife speaks with is her own choice, I will not command her."  
"Then command _me_ ," she smiled, "I am your subject."  
"Margaery, I am your King and faithful to my Queen until the day that I die," he asserted, " _get out_...we will not speak of this."

He held the door open for her himself, his eyes on the ground.  
"Your Grace," she offered begrudgingly, covering herself as she made way for the door.  
"Send for my Queen," he instructed a guard outside his door, "I seem to have urgent need of her."

\- A/N -

Oh William...nothing seems to be going right!

What was your favourite part of this chapter? So much happened, haha! Let me know in a review :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you've had a lovely week!


	51. XI - Cersei

_**CERSEI XI**_

Disappointed with the state of her family, namely her two eldest sons, the Queen Mother sat alone and sipped on wine. _Does William wish to punish me, too?_ she wondered, _Joffrey is my son...I have a mother's right to see him. But maybe he does not have the right to see me...is that what it is? Is that it? He's a prince!_ she thought frustratedly, _but what he did, oh, Will may never forgive it._

It had been days since anyone but Qyburn had been permitted to see Joffrey. Cersei longed to check on him...longed to see his face; bruises and all. She asked Qyburn to slip him a message, but he'd said the guard was so strong and the security so high that even if he managed to get a note in, Joffrey would never be able to respond. Nor would he; apparently he didn't even speak. Sarafine burst into the room.

"My love," Cersei rose, concern on her face.  
"Cersei," Sarafine wrapped her arms tightly around the Queen Mother and spoke quickly, "I have an urgent matter and I fear you are the only one I can bring it to."  
"Of course, sit, what is it?"  
"Before William made the announcement about the punishment of treasons...I-, Sansa and I made an investigation of Olenna Tyrell's chambers."  
"Sara."  
"I know, it was a foolish idea," she shook her head, "but what we uncovered is _damning_ evidence. Read it," she handed a piece of paper to the Queen Mother and watched on as she read.

 _Our next man will not fail and Lady Margaery's marriage will be secured by the next moon,_ Cersei repeated in her mind.  
"What does this mean?" she asked.  
"Nothing on its own, I know, but...there's more. When we were there, we found a record of accounts and in it a payment that was sufficient for an assassin but no description as to where it went..." Sarafine rambled.  
"Do you have a copy of this?"  
"I have _it_ ," she handed it over.  
"Gods," Cersei cursed, "and how do you know that _that_ is what this evidence is all about?"

Sarafine lowered her voice.  
"Because on the body of the assassin sent to William and I in the gardens was a pin. A golden rose pin. Sansa and I heard Lady Olenna speak of it...when she asked to be dressed with it, a handmaiden reminded her that she _gave it away_."  
"She sent the assassin," Cersei realised with horror, "it's been them all along."  
"Oh, thank the Gods, you believe me."

The courage of the Warrior filled her, and the justice of the Father.  
"Of course, we must act on this at once."  
"I don't know how to...Olenna _mustn't_ know that I was in her chambers. Gods, Sansa and I hid under her bed to avoid being caught." Sara recited.  
"Have you brought this to William?"  
"He won't hear me. I thought he was going to. Margaery visited him, I know _that_ because I passed her in the halls," Sara raised her brows, comically.  
"And when you presented this to him?"  
"All I did was entertain the King's desires...not that I'm disappointed by that, I just...I just thought we could be rid of them...that he was ready to _let_ us be rid of them. Instead, he refuses to speak of it."  
"Why?" Cersei asked, concern for her son burning in her. _Help him, Robert, help him._  
"Because he's tired and I understand, I see it, I'm tired too but the only way we can fix it is if the Tyrells are _gone_ ," the Queen expressed.  
"And you think what you've found will rid us of them?"  
"I believe it has a chance. In the right hands, in your father's hands, maybe. I don't know, I just..."  
"Sarafine." Cersei stopped her.  
"What?"  
"Let me tell you something important, and I want you to always remember this...no matter the situation," she took the hands of her daughter-in-law, " _never_ rely on a man to rescue you. You are strong enough on your own to do this."  
"I hope that I am, truly," she breathed, "thank you."  
"I'm not going to tell you what to do with this...you need to figure it out on your own...as _Queen_ of the Seven Kingdoms. This is the duty I have handed to you and the duty that I know you are fit for."

Soon, Cersei found herself on her way to the Maidenvault, for one room in particular.  
"I'm here to see the Queen of Thorns," she told a guard.  
"She's occupied."  
"Do I look concerned? Announce me," she demanded.  
"Queen Mother, Cersei Lannister," the other called.

Lady Olenna sat at her desk with ink and parchment.  
"Ah, Queen Mother, I was wondering when I'd see you."  
"Were you?" Cersei cocked her head to the side curiously.  
"Sit, I believe we have much to speak of," the woman smiled and the Queen Mother sat across from her, projecting confidence with every step.  
"I hear your granddaughter visited my son, yesterday," Cersei began, knowing who the true mastermind was.  
"Joffrey? No one's been allowed to see him, you know full-"  
"I'm talking of the King, my lady."  
"I was not aware of this visit...how lovely. Do you keep track of everyone that enters and exits your son's room?" the Queen of Thorns inquired.  
"No, no, I do not," Cersei laughed.  
"Funny, maybe you should have been doing so with your second son. Seems he's been running around with Sansa Stark right under your nose," Olenna laughed, bitterly, taking pen to parchment again. Cersei imagined she wasn't writing anything important whilst she was there.  
"I should watch my tongue if I were you, not so long ago, I was your _actual_ Queen," she reminded.  
"Though you don't hold much power now, evidently."  
"Would you like to test that theory?" Cersei stood, pushing her chair back in frustration.  
"Cersei, I have no quarrel with you," the Tyrell sat back in her seat, almost smiling.  
"Forgive me, Lady Olenna, but I have reason to believe you do."  
"And why is that? Because I'd like my granddaughter to marry one of your sons?" she suggested, dangerously.  
"Because you want her to marry one that's already taken. I'll have you know that Sarafine and Sansa are as much my children as William and Joffrey. Since being relieved of my duties as Regent, I've had a lot of spare time to consider what may happen to those who seek to scorn me and mine. If that's you...you and yours face a nasty fate," she threatened.  
"Lovely to see you as always, Queen Mother," Lady Olenna smiled and tilted  
her head, "you have not disappointed."

\- A/N -

The passive aggression is REAL lmao

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Do you think Sarafine will take Cersei's advice? Let me know in a review!

Hope you have a lovely weekend :)


	52. XIV - Sarafine

**SARAFINE XIV**

Nervously, Sarafine sat in Qyburn's laboratory with Cersei at her side. _This changes everything,_ she knew, _this_ makes everything _different_. He continued to tinker away at a table while she waited, her eyes wandering over all the magnificent potions and tools he kept stored there. _How deadly is this room?_ She'd been suspicious for the past few weeks, and told only her mother-by-law, who was more hopeful than she, it had seemed. She brought Sarafine straight to Qyburn for examination, which had been a rather strange experience. She wished for Sansa to be there too, but William had remained adamant about keeping her and Joffrey confined to chambers.

"Your Grace," the Queen Mother's attendant spoke up.  
"Yes?" she asked, eagerly.  
"Your suspicions are true," the man smiled and her heart filled with warmth.  
"You are certain?" she questioned, just to be sure.  
"As can be. Queen Sarafine, you are with child."

Tears of joy flowed out of her eyes and Cersei's.  
"With child," she repeated, as if saying it made it true. Aside from that, she was speechless. The Queen Mother's arms fell around her.  
"You could be carrying the future King," she beamed, "when can you be sure of the sex?"  
"In some time, for now it is too early to tell."  
"How far along am I?" Sarafine inquired.  
"From my tests, it would appear you conceived on your wedding night, or shortly thereafter," he informed, continuing to tinker around. _I knew it was magical,_ she remembered.  
"You're pregnant," Cersei repeated.  
"I'm pregnant," she smiled a smile as wide as the day she married the child's father.  
"William will be overjoyed."  
"He will," she said, then realising, "I can't tell him yet."  
"Sarafine," she almost laughed, "why not?" Cersei's face fell.  
"Because there's things that need to be done prior..." she patted down her skirt and stood.  
"What are you planning?"  
"I'm not sure yet, but you'll know soon," Sarafine began to make way for the doors, "for now, tell no one."  
"As you wish," the Queen Mother nodded.

The Queen left Qyburn's laboratory with a mix of emotions. She wanted to say that nothing could take away from the joy of knowing she was with child...with _William's_ child, but there was so much danger... _so_ _much_ _unknown_. This had to remain a secret, she knew, _at least until everything is solved...but how long will that be?_

The added responsibility dawned on the Queen. _It's not just me now...not just Will, not just ruling...this is a child, our child; innocent and untouched._ She looked at her stomach with affection, hoping that she would not begin to show before she was prepared to share the news. _I can't have murderers roaming my halls while my child lives in them. I won't._  
"My love," William's voice broke her free from the torment of her thought.  
"Will," she addressed, somewhat unprepared to see him.  
"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.  
"Yes, quite fine," she said, her words quick. _That wasn't convincing_ , she knew.  
"You're lying," he smiled, "what is it?"  
"Nothing, I promise," she took his hands in hers, "I'm fine."  
"Good," he kissed her forehead, "I'm on my way to the Throne Room now, if you'll join me?"

She took his arm and followed him through their Keep to the entrance reserved for just them. Sarafine had an idea, but nerves had her unsure.  
"You'll never hate me, will you?" she asked William  
"Of course not," he laughed, "why would you ask such a thing?"  
"I just need to know."  
"Sarafine, if something troubles you, please do not keep it from me," he begged.  
"Your Grace," a servant interrupted with her crown and she tilted her head for it. _I'm the Queen, I can do this._  
"I won't," she promised, her heart decided on the issue.  
"Then off we go," he offered his hand and their door opened.  
"All hail William of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, and Sarafine of the House Martell, King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Protectors of the Realm," the royal announcer read as they stepped out, showing their faces to their court.

 _And it seems there are so many of them here today, Sarafine worried, so many faces...but where are Olenna and Mace and the rest of that damned house?_ she wondered as she gazed over them all, taking her seat next to her husband's Throne.  
"May the first man bring his matter to the Crown," Will instructed. Sarafine's eyes looked to him with sadness, though he was in King mindset now, worried about his subjects. She hoped he wouldn't resent her for her next move. _The evidence is safe, it's there. I'm right and can't be proven otherwise. It's for the best,_ she told herself.

Matter after matter were brought before them, and William seemed to deal with every one appropriately. To Sarafine, each was smaller than the last, and she was about to change the course of the entire day and the entire Kingdom.  
"If that's all," William stood, beginning to lift his crown from his head.  
"One more thing," she stood, bravely. _This is for you_ , she looked at her husband and then her belly, _and you._  
"Yes, my love?" he sat again.  
"All those loyal to the Crown...in life, land, and oath... _kneel_ ," she commanded, her heart racing in her chest. William appeared puzzled. _Where are they?_ she worried again, seeing only one, "Margaery Tyrell, stand."  
"What are you doing?" William whispered, clearly puzzled.  
"Don't hate me," is all she could utter, though she couldn't be sure if he'd heard her or not. Margaery stood.  
"Yes, Your Grace?" she asked, her eyes free of any suspicion. _Oh, you, sweet, sweet fool._  
"I, Sarafine of the House Martell, daughter of Prince Doran of Dorne, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and a Protector of _your_ Realm...hereby accuse House Tyrell and its leaders of attempted regicide and treason against the Crown," she said, hearing the words as she said them. _Done_.  
"Sarafine-" William stood as did Cersei, who seemed as in the dark as everyone else in the room.  
"Seize every member of this household you can find!" she commanded.  
"Sarafine," the King grabbed at her arm.  
"And place them in the Black Cells beneath the Keep!"  
" _Sarafine_ ," Will uttered again, this time angrier. _I'm_ _sorry_.  
"Trust me," she commanded him.

Ser Loras, all armoured and knightly, stepped in front of his sister and drew his sword against the crowd. His face was white with shock, as was Margaery's. _And my heart red with fury...I'm a Baratheon now._  
"You'll step back!" he shouted.  
"You can't imprison us!" Margaery called, "I demand a trial on behalf of my House!"  
"Oh, you will get it," Sarafine responded, eyes dark with contempt.  
"Seize them!" a lord shouted.

 _Where are the rest of them?_ Sara thought, _Olenna, Mace, all Margaery's brothers...oh gods...where?_  
"Where is the Queen of Thorns?" Sarafine demanded, "Olenna and her son are to be brought to me, _find_ _them_!"  
"Stand aside, Ser Loras," Will commanded, defeat in his tone. Guilt washed over Sarafine, _I didn't want for it to be this way._  
"I demand a trial by combat," Loras called. _Rip that cloak from your shoulders, traitor,_ Sara wished to scream but relented, knowing it would harm William more than anyone. The King nodded to his uncle.

In a flash, Ser Jaime stepped forward.  
"Fine," he responded to Loras, slashing his sword against the Tyrell's leg without warning. A cry of pain emanated from him, and Sara felt a momentary satisfaction among the sickness in her stomach at their treason, "there's your trial," he spat.  
Men surrounded the Tyrell siblings, seized them and dragged them forward to the faithful Kingsguards.  
"You'll burn in hell for this," Margaery shouted at Sarafine.  
"When you get there, tell them to expect me," she responded, absolutely livid.  
"Our chambers, _now_ ," William demanded of her. Dutifully, and full of fear, she followed him there. She removed her crown on the way, feeling premature defeat.

They walked in silence, and William ignored every greeting from any passerby. Sarafine did her best to nod politely. Relief found her temporarily when he was informed of an emergency small council meeting and left for it, allowing her time to think. When he arrived after sundown, however, every word she rehearsed had left her mind.

He slammed the door behind them and she jumped at the sound, her heart pounding against her ribs violently. _Can my child hear my fear?_  
"How could you do that to me? In front of everyone without my permission, my knowledge?" he demanded, his eyes burning with anger.  
"I _had_ to, there was no other way," she tried to explain.  
"No other way?" he shouted and for a moment she thought he would cry, "you had a million opportunities to at least _tell_ me what you had planned!"  
"Yes, William, because I was going to roll over in the dead of night and say _I think I'll accuse the Tyrells in court tomorrow, what do you think_?"  
"You made me look like a fool," he reminded her.  
"I didn't think of that and I'm sorry, William! It wasn't my intention," Sarafine panicked, feeling like a child in trouble.  
"Then what was?" he asked her, though she doubted he would truly listen to her answer. _He promised not to hate me_ , she tried to remind herself, _he promised, he promised._  
"To _protect_ us...to protect our families, our legacy," she listed, adding _and_ _our_ _child_ , in her mind. _I can't tell him now, not like this._  
"How did _that_ protect anyone from anything?"  
"The whole city is hunting for them...for the traitors who tried to murder us," she walked to him, trying to take his hands only to have them torn from her.  
"You don't even _know_ that was them!" he stepped away.  
"I do, but you _refuse_ to listen to me, listen to what I've found!" she begged.  
"A _damned_ _disguise_!" he tossed the table in their room, glass shattering across their floor. Wine bled into one of their rugs and fruit rolled along the tiles. _What a mess I've made_ , she recognised. William faced their balcony and breathed heavily, refusing to look at her.  
"It's not a disguise," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.  
"What?"  
"I have proof," she wiped her face and walked on shaky legs toward her dresser, opening the drawer, "here," she held the papers to him, her hands shivering with fear and adrenaline, "I can explain it to you...if you like."  
"Do you understand the repercussions we could face should Mace and Olenna command their forces on us?" he muttered, looking at the papers.  
"I don't know," she whispered again. For a moment, he didn't even seem like William.

He continued to read over them, and she sat on a trunk at the end of their bed. _Maybe this is a good night for me to spend alone,_ she thought, not daring to speak a word.  
"What does any of this mean?"  
"They sent the assassin...they likely poisoned my wine too," she stared at the ground and spoke without emotion.  
"This should be sufficient for a trial...if we ever live to see one," he placed it on the dresser and ran his hands through his hair, knocking the crown from his head. It fell to the ground with a clang, shaking the Queen, though not breaking or denting at all. Their room was filled with silence.

Sarafine watched as William knelt down to pick it up. He did so slowly, staring at the piece, running his fingers gently over the pieces.  
"I hate this," he breathed, "I _hate_ being King."  
"No, you don't," she tried to convince him.  
"Right now...I do," he stood, placing it on the dresser with the papers. He began to undo his surcoat, and let it slip to the floor.

 _This is not how this night should have been,_ she breathed shakily.  
"I'll go," she stood, walking to the door.  
"Go where?"  
"My old chambers," the Queen spoke, "I'll leave you be."  
"No," he insisted, his voice softening, "I want you to stay."

She heard him step toward her, though didn't turn until she could feel him reach for her shaking hand. Her whole body felt as if it was shaking, and in her head she worried for her child. Her face was wet with silent tears.  
"You're crying," he observed.  
"I thought I was protecting us," she whispered, and more tears flowed, "I'm so sorry."  
Her hands shook again, and for a moment she stood and cried in front of him.

The King took her in his arms, her head against his chest.  
"I'm so sorry, William," she whispered through wracking sobs.  
"I shouldn't have...broken the table," he admitted, "I'm sorry."  
He swayed with her in his arms, as if to nurse a child, and maybe he was, for that was how she felt. _A helpless child, only I wear a Crown._  
"Please stay with me tonight," he begged, leading her to their bed. _He promised._

He held her the whole night, stroking his hands gently against her hair, though she couldn't sleep or forget the damage they'd done.  
 _I can't tell him yet,_ she knew, _he's not ready to hear it._

\- A/N -

I wrote this a while ago now and re-reading it kind of broke my heart wow

Do you think Sarafine made the right decision? Let me know in a review :)

Also, twice a week updates (Tuesdays and Fridays) will be returning next week! Yay! Hope you've enjoyed your week and that you all have a lovely Easter weekend if you're celebrating!


	53. XIII - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY XIII**_

Shock had riddled the scorned Prince's body when they brought him the news. He remained awake into the late hours of the night, contemplating it all.

 _The Tyrells...treason,_ he thought, knowing the accusation wasn't farfetched but still struggling to take it in. _Who do they want me to marry now?_ He missed Sansa dearly, not having seen her for days. William had granted him freedom of the castle, but he wasn't to attend court or meetings of the small council...or his love. She remained in her quarters or the Godswood, Sarafine and Cersei visiting her often. _I'm so sorry_ , he wanted to tell her, _I'm so sorry it didn't work._

In truth, she shouldn't have been punished at all. The whole plan was Joffrey's idea, all she did was agree out of love for him. _Why could William, of all people, not see that_? Joffrey wondered. His eyes still carried some bruising from the fists of his brother. _Maybe that I deserved_ , he reflected.

As he stared at himself in the looking glass, he noted something else in the background. _Paper_ , he saw, turning to see it wedged between two apples in his fruit bowl. Eagerly, he marched toward it and plucked it out. _Joffrey_ , was all it read on the outside. The page was folded, though not sealed. _Suspicious_. He opened it up, squinting at it in the dim light of his own fire.

 _You're the only one who can save me, please_ , the note read, a rose sketched crudely in lead at the bottom. _Damn you_ , he thought as he scrunched it up and tossed it into the dwindling flames of his fire.

In the dead of night, the King's "traitor" brother made way for the Black Cells.  
"Have a larger fire burning when I return," he told his guards, "it's said that the dungeons carry a certain chill to them."

The guard hadn't just been doubled on his door, but around the entire castle. Since Olenna and Mace and all the other Tyrells had fled like cowards, no one knew what to expect or what to look for. But nevertheless, the search continued. The air grew colder the closer he got to the cells.

 _I've always hated this place,_ he remembered as he began descending the ugly steps, _why in seven hells am I here, again?_ He didn't know what he felt for the girl, only that it wasn't warm and wasn't good.

When he found her, Margaery Tyrell was laid in her cell, broken and bruised.  
"I got your note," he announced his arrival.  
"My prince," she smiled, "oh, my prince, you came!"  
In the light of his lantern, she had become ugly. Dirt and ash seemed to smear across her face, and her hair was a bird's nest of knots and tangles. _Nothing like my Northern lady_ , he thought, with joy. _This is what a traitor looks like...once you strip away the fineries_. She laughed with joy and tears began to stain her face, though when she went to touch him, he found himself stepping back.  
"You shouldn't touch me," he informed.  
"Do you fear me?"  
"No," he shook his head, "I shouldn't even be here."  
"But you are a prince, yes?" she began to play at him again.  
"Quit that," he snapped, "I'm not blind to your manipulations anymore. What is it that you want?"  
"Can you not read?" she laughed, " _save_ me, Joffrey, rescue me from this horrid cell that is clearly not at _all_ fit for a lady, let alone any human. Tell me you don't feel the cold."  
"Maybe it's what you deserve," he spoke, boldly, "if what Sarafine says is true."  
"I don't even know what she says, how can I respond to that?" she found the courage to stand...or maybe energy. _How often do prisoners get fed? I best thank my brother for not sending me here._  
"Did you or did you not try to have her poisoned and my brother killed?"  
"Me? Of course not," she sighed, "but of my family? Best ask them instead. I'm sure they'll be far clearer in their confirmation. Tyrell swords speak _stern_ well if I'm to take King William's word for it."

Her words struck fear in him.  
"Do you mean to declare war?"  
"From beneath the Keep? No, Joffrey, I do not mean to declare war...not to you. You're not the King," she reminded, her tone condescending.  
"I'm the prince, you said so yourself."  
"That I did," she sighed, sitting again, "which is why you can _free_ me. Or call your brother here so I may formally do that which you so fear. I can't see much in your torch light but the colour did just drain from your face _awful_ quick."  
"I will do neither," he asserted, "I cannot help you. I refuse to."  
"Then I hope that sword will come of use to you," she pointed to it and he tightened his hand around the hilt.  
"I will not bring my brother here, either. You will rot, until the day of your trial when your fate is decided," he spoke, angry at her taunts.  
"Not even for your future bride?" she batted her eyes, "how cruel."  
"You are not my future bride. I'm to wed Sansa."  
"That's going well for you so far. Tell me, how bad _were_ the bruises? They're healing now but-"  
"You're only bitter because you lost. I will wed her, make no mistake," confidence boomed through his voice.  
"Good luck with that," she laughed. Now he was furious. _Has she forgotten who she is speaking to?_  
"What?"  
"How long since you've seen your dear lady?" Margaery pushed.  
"I'm not permitted to see her," he admitted.  
"Forgive me, I forgot. Allow me to rephrase," she stood, "how long since _anyone_ has seen her? The godswood is _terribly_ unguarded...how unfortunate."

He heard a howl that sent a chill through his bones.  
"You rotten bitch," he charged forward and grasped her by the throat, " _where have you taken her?_ "  
"I've taken her no where. Look around you, I'm in a cell, remember? And if I've committed treason and Sansa has too then she deserves a cell _just_ as pretty," she choked through his hold.  
" _Where is she?_ " he smacked her head against the wall.  
"Go look," she laughed. Joffrey tossed her to the ground with a grunt and exited the cell with haste.  
" _Guards, with me_!" he demanded, furiously.

Thoughts ran through his mind, though he processed nought of them as he marched to Sansa's chambers and burst the door open.  
"Where is she?!" he demanded.  
"Prince Joffrey," a guard tried to object his presence, but he shoved the man away and instructed his own men.  
"The godswood, _check the godswood_!" he ordered.

When they fell upon it, it was as Joffrey had imagined. Empty, but for Lady the direwolf: injured and howling in despair.

\- A/N -

Well, that could be a problem...!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter (yay for the return of twice a week updates !). What are the Tyrells planning? Let me know what you think in a review :)

Also...lmao...I got the funniest guest review (it's since been removed) last week claiming that some of my "chapters" were less than a thousand words (the review itself read "52 chapters for only 93,000 words that doesn't look good chapters with not even 1000 words")...I'll let you guys work that one out.

Have a lovely week guys! Hope you all enjoyed easter (if you celebrate)!


	54. XII - Cersei

_**CERSEI XII**_

"Every guard in this damned city is to hunt for that girl, do you hear me?" her daughter-by-law called at the passersby as she strutted through the halls straight to her.  
"Sarafine," Cersei addressed, hugging her, "what do we know?"  
"Sansa went to the Godswood to pray, with her wolf, that's when she was taken."  
"By the Tyrells, no doubt," Cersei sneered.  
"Margaery told Joffrey as much when he visited her," Sarafine muttered, "this is my fault. If I hadn't taken the evidence Olenna and her sons wouldn't have fled the city in secret. William's having guards punished for letting them out of the gates, all because of me."  
"You must not blame yourself," the Queen Mother gripped her by the arms, "the Tyrells treasons are _not_ your doing. We _will_ find Sansa."  
"And what if we don't?" she panicked, "what if by the time we do it's too late? I won't have her harmed because of the mistake _I_ made in openly accusing them at court."  
"You did what needed to be done for you and your chil-"  
Sarafine cut her off, "no one knows about that, yet, we must not speak of it so freely."  
"Does William?"  
"No, to tell him wasn't right. He was furious."  
"I see," she pondered and erased all traces of the conversation from her face as her son approached.  
"Come, we're meeting inside," the King took his wife by the hand and the two women followed him into the empty chamber of Lady Sansa. Joffrey stood there too, despair in his eyes as he stared at the ground.

Cersei stepped to him and wrapped him in an embrace.  
"Have faith, my son, we'll get her back," she whispered reassurance, though he did not respond but for a nod. Her father and brothers entered the room also.  
"So it's true then?" Tywin inquired, "Lady Sansa's been abducted?"  
"Indeed," Cersei confirmed, "the Tyrells have wasted no time in getting their vengeance."  
"And we're sure it's them?" Tyrion asked.  
"Joffrey confirms it," Sarafine informed.  
"Where did you hear of her abduction?" Will asked Joffrey, suspicion in his tone.  
"I visited Margaery," he admitted, "after receiving a lett-"  
"You visited her? The traitors child rotting in our cells where she belongs?"  
"Is that such a crime?" he had the nerve to ask. Cersei struck him across the face in fury, her blood boiling at her second son's stupidity. His head turned and his skin revealed a red handprint, but he said nothing.

"Mother," William spoke, "step away."

She did as he requested, somewhat regretting her actions and fearing for the pain that may befall Joffrey should he not choose his words with his brother carefully.  
"I gave you freedom of the castle, but _not_ for that, you _fool_!" William shouted, breaking the silence.  
"For what then? Roaming the halls like a common servant?" he taunted.  
"Ah, maybe you should," Will gave a false smile, "it would do you some good to be humbled."  
"Shall I empty your chamber pot and tend to your fire, too?" Joffrey spat.  
"Only if you still have legs to stand on," William strode to him.  
"William," Jaime warned, exhaustion in his tone.  
" _Stop_!" Sarafine placed herself between them holding an arm up in either direction, "this is _not_ about either of you and your _stupid_ vendettas against the other!"

William took a deep breath, "my Queen is right. The primary concern is locating Sansa."  
"How generous of you," Joffrey mocked.  
" _Enough_!" Tywin shouted, proving there was more control in him than anyone else in the room. Cersei felt as if she were to burst into a fit of frustrated tears, but she maintained face and poise in her anger at their circumstance.  
"Why was Sansa even _in_ the godswood so late?" Sarafine questioned.  
"I may have an answer for that," Varys slipped through the door, "if I may."  
"Go on," the King instructed.

In his typical melodramatic manner, Varys strolled forward and pulled parchment from his sleeve.  
"Late this night, the Lady Sansa received a letter from the Prince, asking her to meet him in the Godswood, which is where we found it."  
"How dare you?" William exhaled, his eyes burning with anger. Furious as she was, Cersei could not see her sons fight before her.  
"I wrote no such thing," Joffrey insisted.  
"Then how did Sansa happen upon such a letter?" William inquired.  
"Are you suggesting it was forged?" her father attempted to be the voice of reason.  
"That is exactly what I am suggesting," he held his gaze on Joffrey.

"Your Grace!" A guard burst into the room, "forgive me, Your Grace."  
"Speak," he instructed.  
"Outside the city walls...its the Tyrells..."  
"Speak _freely_."  
"Their forces have arrived, Your Grace."

Illness filled Cersei's body. _No, no, no, this cannot be._  
"How many?" she asked before she could stop herself.  
"The scouts are still counting," the man responded nervously.  
"So we are besieged then?"  
"We are, Your Grace. By a large host."  
"Are there any demands?" William's voice was calm.  
"They wish to see you, Your Grace."

William breathed a deeply audible breath, and spoke the words his mother feared the most.  
"Then I must go."  
"William, no," Tywin insisted.  
"I must go."  
"No, no, no," Sarafine muttered, "please, William, please," she pleaded, tears in her eyes as she pulled at his arm.  
"My love, please understand," he pressed his hand against her face, and a tear fell down Cersei's suddenly far-paler face.  
"No, no, I won't let you," she tried to hold her tears, "William, please."  
"I'll come back for you," he kissed her forehead and she fell to her knees in tears, "I promise."  
"Think about what you're doing," Jaime tried to dissuade him.  
"Ready my horse. I'll ride to the Lion Gate now."

Everything from there was a blur. She vaguely remembered walking behind her son and his desperately pleading Queen on their way to the mounting yard. Cersei could recall begging her son to stay too, but it seemed he had shut them all out of his head. He was determined to save his kingdoms, and he would give his life for the cause.

 _Save him, Robert, please._

The next few minutes as he mounted up were filled with desperate cries from Sarafine, begging her love not to leave to what everyone saw as certain assassination. Cersei felt the same, but knew nothing she said further would change her son's resolve. _If his wife cannot convince him, no one can._ Cersei gripped at her Queen and pulled her back.  
"Let him go, Sarafine."  
"No, I can't, I can't. He'll _die_!" she cried into her chest, "I have to tell him!"  
"No, not like this. Don't," Cersei patted her dark locks, "think of all he has faced so far, my love," she tried to reassure, "he is stronger than you or I know."  
"He's only a man, not an army," she sobbed.  
"All we can do is hope," she let tears slip from her own eyes, "hope and fight."

Sword at side and free of guard, William passed under the portcullis and let it shut behind him, giving one last look to his Queen before riding toward the snake pit.

\- A/N -

Big move for William!

Do you think he made the right decision? Let me know in a review :)

Hope you're all having a lovely week and that you enjoying this chapter!


	55. XIII - William

_**WILLIAM XIII**_

Once the young King reached the Lion's Gate, where he could no longer hear the cries of his wife over the chatter of a massing force outside his city gates, he dismounted.  
"Your Grace," the guards addressed.  
"Open the gate."  
"But, Your Grace, there's..."  
"I know what's out there, my command remains. Open the gate and shut it once I am through."

The man looked at him with strange eyes through his helm, but Will only needed to nod toward him to make it clear that he was leaving the city walls and walking into the Tyrell siege.  
"Gods be with you, Your Grace," one of them said as the portcullis rose.  
"And you," he returned, ducking under it and taking the bravest steps of his life. _And possibly the last_ , he knew. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, knowing he made a dangerous move by even bringing it with him. He looked to the sky in its blackness for a moment, and hoped that his father was looking down on him with proud eyes. Autumn was no matter as humidity and clouds as black as the night they were in filled the air. _A storm is coming_ , he realised, _in more ways than one._

The King, free of crown or royal garb, navigated his way through the enemy tents without such as a word of notice. _This could be a good thing_ , he attempted to reassure himself, _this could serve me well_. He commended himself on his choice to wear only his regular black breeches and boots with a creme coloured undershirt that shone brightly against his black Baratheon hair.

As he got deeper in, however, William noted something that turned his stomach around and around, as with his head.  
"Your Grace," "Your Grace," "Your Grace," was all he heard. Men had begun to notice him, and men were exiting their tents and kneeling — _bending the knee_ — to him...in the camp of their liege lord, the camp of his _enemy_. Disturbance crept up his spine, and he began to pray silently to any god that was willing to hear him.

 _Vile betrayers,_ he thought, _or rebels turned cowards._  
"Your Grace," "Your Grace," "Your Grace," they continued, clearing a path for him and bending to the ground, bowing their heads. The words began to sound foreign to his ears, and once again, he wished the Crown had never befallen him. _Help me, father,_ he looked to the black sky again, _guide me._  
"Your Grace," "Your Grace," "Your Grace," he heard, almost waiting for one of them to stand and plunge a knife into him, and then the rest to follow.

It had been almost half of an hour that he continued walking through to the tune of false surrender, and he'd seen nothing of Mace or Olenna. _Find me them, father._  
Just as he'd asked, a tent flap opened.  
"Your Grace," the Queen of Thorns uttered, her entire camp turning silent, "join me for supper?"  
Will nodded, stepping inside to a small table with three seats, one occupied by Mace Tyrell and another Lady Olenna, when she sat. The last chair, a crude replica of his Throne, was reserved for the King. _A cruel joke, indeed_. He sat, noting the absence of any guards or Mace's sons. Then again, it weren't really Mace running the show at all.

He wondered for a moment if their intent were to poison him, though that seemed far too obvious a choice. He drank their wine when the Lord of Tyrell poured it for him, trusting enough in his own intuition. _No guards, no poison, no assassin...do they mean to murder me with wit?_ he wondered.  
"You've come for Lady Sansa, yes?" Olenna began, "how gallant of you...putting your life at risk for your brother's betrothed."  
"Not the betrothed you wished for him, though," Will noted.  
"True enough."  
"What do you want with Sansa?"  
"It's not what I want _with_ her...it's what I hope to gain from holding her," she spoke with a calmness that left him lost at her angle.  
"Which is?"  
"My granddaughter, of course," she scoffed.  
"Your granddaughter is being held in the Black Cells for conspiring to commit treason," Will reminded, angrily. _And if no one had forged that letter._  
"Margaery has been as in the dark as you," Olenna informed, surprising him.  
"It certainly did not appear as such in her many attempts to seduce me..."  
"I cannot speak for her virtue, but she knew nought of the plans we were enacting."  
"And what were these plans, exactly?"  
"See, Mace, it's just as I told you...he's a _fool_ ," she taunted. Her son sat silently, and William could almost hear him quaking in his boots.  
"A living fool, thanks to your botched attempt to have me killed."  
"Oh, sincerest apologies for that, next time we shall be much more careful as to succeed in the task."

Will grew impatient.  
"Where is Sansa?" he demanded.  
"You want to see her? Good, I hoped you would," she seemed satisfied, "guards, bring in the girl."

Outside the tent, the King heard quiet sobs. _And it's only been hours._  
"Please, please, just let me return to the castle. I've done nothing against you, please, let me go. I won't tell anyone," she was begging. William closed his eyes for a moment. _Not her burden to bear, yet she is crushed by the weight of it._

But when he opened his eyes, he saw a sight he couldn't have prepared himself for. Sansa was beaten, her arms and eyes purple with bruises from this night alone. Her dress didn't go past her knees, and a few streams of blood had dried down her leg, confirming the worst.  
"How dare you?" William seethed, his voice deeper and darker than he knew possible.  
"How dare we _what_ , William?" Olenna teased, "how dare we take her? How dare we have her beaten? How dare we have her raped? Ask your mother about that one."  
"You lay hands on my family," he shut his eyes to try contain himself. _If you kill them, you'll be slaughtered in an instant._  
"She's not your family, she's a girl from a land _very_ far away," Olenna mocked, "and when they hear what happened to her in _your_ care...that's a battle I'm sure to enjoy."  
"And on whose behalf is it that you do this?" he tried to think.  
"Daenerys of the House Targaryen...why do you think she sent such a small force onto your _Blackwater_?"

William's pit of despair only grew deeper and deeper with every word, and now he felt all the shame in the world.  
"You never came to save us," he realised. _Sarafine, my mother, Tyrion...they were all right._  
"Oh no," she shook her head, "and now you're in it as deep as we needed you to be."  
"If you're going to kill me, do it. Here and now," he insisted.  
"I'm not going to kill you...I'm giving you a taste of what's to come. Look at her."

The Queen of Thorns lived up to her name. William felt like she was the King, and he only a helpless subject, along with poor Sansa. _I'm so sorry_ , his eyes said as he looked into hers.  
"Sansa," he breathed, ashamed of how he could let this happen.  
"Now, Sansa already means something to you...this we know. But what if this was your sister, Myrcella? Your mother? Your wife, Sarafine?"

Images of a vile nature plagued his mind. He saw Sarafine in the hands of the treasonous guards, dishonoured and helpless...and all his fault. He saw her eyes black, her hair matted and her skin caked with blood and dirt. And worst of all, he saw her tears: the salted ones and those of redness from in between her thighs. _She wants me to break, to burst and murder them all only to murder myself. Think, William, think._  
"What do you want?" he managed, his hand shaking over the hilt of his sword.  
"We demand nothing but Margaery," the woman stood, "and know that if we do not get her, your beloved family will face the same fate as this one," she pointed to Sansa before directing an instruction to the guards, "take her away."  
"Please don't make me go back, my lady, I never did anything, I swear," she sobbed.  
"I don't care," Olenna waved a hand nonchalantly.  
"Please, Your Grace, please, you have to help me, I beg you."  
"I'll be back for you, Sansa," William called as she cried in the arms of her brutalisers, dragged away from him.

He stood, his legs unsure, and towered over Lady Olenna, looking down upon her weathered face.  
"Your crimes are past forgivable, but hear me now: if you lay a hand on my mother, my sister or my wife in the way you have Sansa, I will torture you, and take your heads myself."  
"I would hope so," she smiled, "Mace, I'm rather tired. Let's retire for the night."  
Without a word, the pair left the tent and the King in it. He was physically unharmed, but the sight of Sansa had destroyed him... _and now I have to tell my family, and give the Tyrell girl back._

Deeply disturbed, he began his journey back to the city. His heart yearned to hold his wife in his arms, to know that she was safe and unharmed, but his duty told him he had other things to attend to prior. The portcullis was raised for him, and the dangerous false courtesy of "Your Grace," from the Tyrell soldiers faded into the distance. He mounted a horse, and rode back to the Keep in silence, a full compliment of guards behind him. He said nothing to any of them, and they didn't dare utter anything to him.

When he entered the mounting yard of the Red Keep, his wife was stood there, a night robe around her. A smile and flood of tears accompanied her when she saw him and ran toward him.  
"You're back," she cried, and he jumped from his horse and wrapped his arms around her. _She's here, and she's alright_ , "how?"  
"It doesn't matter," he patted her hair and held her face, "all that matters is that you're okay."  
"And Sansa?" Joffrey ran to him, "how is Sansa?"  
"I can't say," Will lied, the images filling his head again.

He reluctantly met with the small council soon after.  
"My son," Cersei greeted him, glints of tears in her eyes as she held his head in her hands, "never do that again."  
He smiled at her and she him, and they hugged again before the real work commenced.  
"They want Margaery," he declared, "for Sansa."  
"We can't give up Margaery, she's our only valuable hostage," Littlefinger offered.  
"We _have_ to," Joffrey insisted, angrily, "we must do anything and everything we can to get her back."  
"And we will. The Tyrells are working for the Targaryen girl," Will informed, marching around his table, "this presents a great weakness."  
"How so, my King?" Varys asked.  
"Daenerys sent that force into Blackwater knowing they would die...she's not worried about a Tyrell maiden."  
"But the Tyrells are," Pycelle suggested, "they are the imminent threat."  
"Only until Daenerys instructs them otherwise. This either destroys their alliance if the Tyrells disobey, or relieves us of the threat once they march home."  
"And Sansa?" Joffrey asked, eyes childlike.  
"That's another story," he began, with a smile. The group began to plot and plan until William's eyes were drooping. He returned to his chambers.

In the early hours of the morning, with darkness soon to fade into light, he found his love still awake. She sat in a silken robe, wine coloured and complimentary to every feature she had. Her brown eyes stared into the dying embers of their fire, and somehow, even in her exhaustion, she seemed more beautiful to him than ever.  
"My love," he knelt before her in her chair, "my love, why are you still awake?"  
He leant to kiss her forehead.  
"I couldn't sleep without you," she admitted, squeezing his hand in hers, "I thought I might lose you tonight."  
"I'm here now. And here to stay. Let's rest...we can talk about everything on the morrow," he pleaded, beginning the walk to their bed.  
"Not everything," she stopped him, standing, "there's something I have to tell you."  
Her eyes were full of concern, wet with emotion. Even in the low light of their dwindling fire, he knew.  
"Are you alright?" he asked her.  
"I'm pregnant," she smiled. William's heavy shoulders lifted in an instant, and his spirit with them.  
"Sarafine," he breathed, his own eyes stinging with tears of joy, "are you certain?"  
"Our wedding night," she nodded, "I'm certain."

In a moment of overwhelming happiness, he lifted her in his arms and spun her around, lowering her into a kiss of more love and passion than he had ever known.  
"You're pregnant," he laughed through tears of indescribable elation, "you're pregnant!"  
"I am!" she cried, smiling and laughing with him.  
"I love you," he declared, "I will _always_ love you."  
"I will always love you," she tangled her precious hands in his hair, sending tingles up his spine. He kissed her again, and again and again until they found their way to their bed and out of their silks and wools.

After her assurance that it was safe, he slid inside of her and let everything go. _Forever and always,_ he knew when he watched her head fall back in pleasure, _I am yours._

\- A/N -

This is one of my favourite chapters I've written so far so I hope you all enjoyed it!

How do you think William plans to get Sansa back? And how cute was his reaction to Sarafine's pregnancy aw...Let me know what you think in a review!

Have a lovely week :)


	56. XIII - Cersei

***trigger warning: rape/violence***

CERSEI XIII

Seeing her son return safely left Cersei with a certain feeling of peace despite the threat that loomed outside their gates. She hated war and she hated the Tyrells even more. When the day had broken and the Tyrells had not moved, the small council convened again at William's order, and she knew what he meant to do. Ever his father's son.

Deprived of sleep, she attended, and it appeared everyone felt the same as she. Exhaustion was the overarching air of the room, and she doubted much progress would be made.

"The Tyrells have shown no fear of aggression," William declared as he marched in, "I haven't informed you of their efforts so far and I don't plan to, for reasons of confidentiality."

"Does this regard Sansa?" Joffrey started to stand. Please, just let him speak, Cersei wanted to tell him, instead remaining quiet.

"Our main focus is to retrieve Lady Stark," the King ignored Joffrey. And perhaps not without reason, she pondered, somewhat scared for what he wasn't revealing, "they may fight, so much as I wish it were otherwise. Until the Targaryen sends word...they will wait and so will we. In the meantime, however long it may be, it is imperative that siege weapons are brought to the city's edges, prepared for a sacking. If they decide to storm our gates, we will not go down without a fight."

"Go down?"

"The numbers are not on our side...not yet," he muttered, disappointment in his tone.

"And may be even less so," Varys piped up.

"What?" Cersei cocked her head to the side.

"Lady Catelyn Stark has departed Winterfell, Your Grace, my birds tell me she has learnt of her daughter's captivity," the eunuch delivered the dire news. We can't lose the North, no, Gods, no. Robert, help!

"Meaning the entire North knows of it as well...and they'll blame me," Will saw.

"You cannot say that," Tyrion appeared nonchalant, much to Cersei's annoyance, "they may hate the Tyrells as much as we need them to if they've heard this news."

"Aye, but it happened under my watch and that makes it my fault!" the King declared, smacking his fist on the table and startling the room, "we can't rely on anything above the Neck at this point, especially with the obstacle of the Freys. Besides, they'd never make it in time if the Targaryen plans to strike soon."

The room remained silent while William pondered, each of them too afraid to speak. His fury was evident in his body language, and they were all wise to remain neutral.

"Prepare the city for siege and the men here for battle. Mother, I'll have a word with you before you leave. The rest of you are dismissed."

Chairs moving against the floor and quick footsteps were the only sound in the room, with mumbled Your Grace's. She was curious as to her son's information, and somewhat concerned.

"Are you well?" he stalled.

"Yes," she insisted, "what is it you require, my son?"

William slowed his pace until he was next to her, and in a chair he sat, leant his arms on his knees and looked at the ground. This cannot be good.

"I am arranging a ship."

"William," she breathed in heartbreak.

"No, mother. I'm not going to let you die at my hands," he looked up at her, his eyes pleading.

"I am not going to leave you," she placed her arms on his shoulders. You are my son, my blood, I cannot, I cannot.

"I am ordering you, for your safety...get on that ship. Take my wife, my brothers...it will sail to Sunspear and I will arrange the rest," he continued to debrief her as she shook her head to the tune of no, no, no, "mother. I need you to do this. You didn't see Sansa."

"What does that mean?"

"I can't let them do that to you," he shook his head, standing. Cersei followed his lead, tracing his steps.

"Do what? Why won't you tell us what happened to her?"

"Because they're ruthless, mother. I can't think about it. Not now...knowing that Sarafine is pregnant...there's so much more at stake."

"She told you?" the Queen Mother wanted to smile, but the circumstance seemed an odd one to warrant such an emotion.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew," she nearly laughed, "how bad was Sansa? Truly?" Cersei tugged at her son's arm, eager for the truth.

"It's not good."

"I need more than that," she begged, "please."

"Her virtue is gone, mother," William informed.

"Gone?" Cersei rose her brows, knowing the meaning but not wishing to accept it.

"They took her for their own," shame sounded in his voice and illness filled the Queen Mother.

"How...how dare they," she barely whispered, her eyes filled with furious tears.

"We will get our revenge," he vowed.

"Oh, we will, and I'm to get some now," she declared, more to herself than anyone else. She spun on her heels and began her march to the Black Cells.

"Mother?" William appeared confused, but Cersei's intentions had never been clearer. If I'm leaving this city, it won't be without some vengeance.

She burst through Lady Margaery's cell door the second the turnkey did his job. The girl, unawares of the trouble she was in, rushed to her feet and nodded her head.

Cersei couldn't find the words, but her hand found Margaery's cheek just fine, swinging her to the ground with a smack that would likely bruise. The impact stung Cersei's hand, but not near so much as the knowledge of Sansa stung her soul.

"How dare you?!" she screamed, all concern for dignity lost.

"Your Grace, I-"

"How dare you?!" she screamed again, tears streaming violently as she dragged the girl by the hair in a similar manner.

"Ah, ah," Margaery cried, and so you should.

"You treated Sansa like a friend, you heartless bitch! How dare you?!"

"I don't...know...what you're...asking," the girl choked out and with all the strength of her husband, Cersei swung her body against the wall.

"You would allow her to be taken? To be tortured under your family's name, how could you, how?!" she continued to scream, enclosing her hands around the pretty white throat of Margaery Tyrell.

"They hurt her?" she seemed surprised.

"It seems your pitiful family have forgotten we still hold you...or they realised your true value. Maybe I have too," her words were cruel and the girl was stripped back to weakness. A girl, she saw for a moment, just a girl caught up in it all. Me, once.

"That's more value than you," she choked.

Her blood boiling, she dug a harshly-swung foot between Lady Margaery's legs, and heard an all-satisfying cry from the girl.

"Mother," William demanded.

"From my family to yours," she spat at the prisoner, exited and let the door lock Margaery in again.

"I will get on your ship, but not until I see her hanged in the Throne Room," she demanded of the King, not waiting for a response as she stormed away to quell her rage.

\- A/N -

Yeesh, that was heavy. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter nonetheless.

What do you think the Tyrell's next step will be? And will Cersei leave on the ship? Let me know what you think in a review!

Also, I felt the need to place a trigger warning at the start because someone got quite annoyed at me for discussing the topic of sexual assault (on another story-sharing platform) but I stand by my choice to discuss it in A Kingdom Unbowed and thought to place it there for anyone who doesn't wish to read about such things. I hope you guys all have a lovely weekend and please know that if you ever need to talk that my inbox is open to anyone and everyone 24/7. 3


	57. XV - Sarafine

_**SARAFINE XV**_

The Queen was surrounded by chaos. Her city prepared for battle, and all she could think of was losing her husband to the Tyrells if they decided to strike. _And my child...my child,_ she thought, stroking at her soon-to-be-enlarging belly. New gowns were being fitted for her, _but what do they matter if I am dead?_

The sun remained up but it was a truly dark day, in her eyes. She sat in her solar, and tried to convince herself all would be well, while at the same time, preparing goodbyes. She looked around the room, a cup of honeyed milk in hand to quell her nerves. _Some essence of nightshade was needed with it, I think_. What saddened her the most was that if these were their final days, she wasn't able to spend them with her husband. William was so busy preparing the city for a hostile siege and the troops for battle. _But this is what I took on, isn't it? When we said those words in the Sept?_ She stared out over the Blackwater in silence, letting the breeze blow against her face and adjust her hair.

"What are you thinking of?" his voice interrupted her thoughts.  
"You, mostly," she opened her eyes.  
"Good thoughts, I hope."  
"Always," she turned to see him dressed all in black, looking more the wild prince than dutiful king in his loose black undershirt, tight black breeches and boots. _I could take you right here and now if it weren't for our circumstance,_ "you look nice."  
"Thank you," he smiled at the ground, "I need to talk to you about something."

He pulled up a chair next to her, and part of the Queen already knew what he was going to say. She begged herself not to cry, but couldn't think of any other way to cope.  
"I love you, you know this?"  
"I can't forget it," she smiled, sadly.  
"And you know that I will do anything to protect you...to protect our child. Even leave you," he spoke as expected.  
"No, William, no."  
"It is the only way to keep you safe if this city falls," he held her hands, sending her wild with desire and red with anger all the same.  
"I'm the Queen, I can't flee from rebels in fear!"  
"Yes, you can! I need you to," he exhaled, defeat already plaguing him.  
"Are our circumstances so grim?" she swallowed to avoid tears.  
"At this point, I don't know. We aren't surrounded at sea yet and I'd rather be safe than sorry."  
"But you won't be safe, will you? Only me," she tested him.

William looked into her eyes with a pair just as sad, signalling that he would not budge, no matter how hard she tried. _He's a King,_ shesaw, _a true King._  
"Where would you send me?"  
"To your home, to Dorne," he informed, pain in his voice and in her heart.  
"Dorne is my birthplace, but not my home, William," she tried to remind him, pointlessly adding, "I can't leave you."  
"You _know_ what happened to the Targaryens when this city was sacked 19 years ago. You know and I know...and I can't put you at risk," he squeezed her hands, his eyes teary but his voice strong. She continued fighting as emotion spilled from her eyes.  
"The Tyrells are _not_ Gregor Clegane," she tried to persuade him.  
"The Tyrells are equally as dangerous, I promise you."

Sarafine left a long silence, and thought of Sansa. _Won't she feel betrayed if she knows I have left? If I have given up hope? Oh, but she would never wish harm upon me._  
"You have a plan, I assume?"  
"A merchant ship, leaving tonight-"  
" _No_ , not tonight," she fought, "William, please. Let me have one more with you," the Queen begged.  
"I can't," he asserted, "it has to leave in the night if it's carrying _you_."  
"Don't you think that looks suspicious? The morning, please. Crack of dawn, I do not care, just let me spend this evening with you if you want me to go."  
"As soon as the sun rises, I will walk with you to the docks," he agreed.

She leant forward and kissed him softly, savouring the feeling as he held her head in his hands. _Forever and always, I am yours,_ she wished to remind him.  
"You can't die," she told him, "you must promise me that you will not."  
"I will not die," he almost laughed.  
"I'm serious, William. If you die, I can't live on."  
"Nor me without you," he declared, and the door to the room burst open.  
"Ser Jaime," they stood, startled.  
"Your Grace, it's the Tyrells. Come see," he instructed.  
"What about them? Jaime, tell me."  
"They're marching home," he smirked, and the pair followed him into the halls and to the battlements.

And it was true. The great Tyrell camp that had massed outside his gates days ago had begun a march home. Their tents were disappearing, their horses trailing into the distance with their men. _We're saved,_ she thought for a moment, nearly jumping with joy until she remembered her dearest friend was still in their clutches.  
"What about Sansa?" she breathed.  
"It appears they are keeping her hostage, Your Grace," Ser Jorah informed her.  
"No, they can't, we need her back."  
"I don't know that there's a way we can get her back, as at yet."

Though the old knight brought dire news, there was an air about him that was somewhat comforting. She enjoyed having him around, and hoped that William's new Kingsguard would be equally as agreeable.  
"Would you like us to dispatch orders, Your Grace?" Lord Tywin approached them in the midday sun, squinting to admire the sight of a disappearing force.  
"Everyone is to meet in the Throne Room, grandfather. I dare say that this means no good."  
"No good? William, they're _leaving_ ," Sarafine couldn't understand.  
"Aye, but they'll be back," he declared, and they marched to the Throne Room arm in arm. A serving girl brought them their crowns, and they began to play the strong King and Queen. _And I hope we play it well. I may have to engage in such a profession if all goes awry._

The doors to the Throne Room opened, and between pairs of Kingsguards, they walked through the slowly filling room of lords, ladies, knights and eager maidens.  
Most of them were smiling and nodding, but William seemed uncomfortable at every whisper of _Your Grace, Your Grace_ as they passed them all by. _Fools_ , Sarafine thought bitterly, _fools who think it all well and good. And they don't even know I'm pregnant._

She squeezed William's arm as they made their way forward to his Throne, and he smiled at her with gratitude. She released him to his chair and sat in her own. The room fell silent but for footsteps of still-entering nobles.

Sarafine hardly felt appropriate before them. Her gown was nothing of great grandeur, for she only thought she'd be in her solar whilst wearing it, though her husband's wedding gift to her and the crown that rested on her head appeared a strong enough show of royalty. William, however nice Sara thought he looked in his loose black shirt that showed enough of his chest to make her knees weak, looked less than kingly for court. She wanted to send for appropriate garb to be brought to his small council chamber so he may change, but assumed it would embarrass him all the more with his current state of unsureness. Her husband nodded and a page called the room to attention. Each of them bowed before their King and Queen, though all she saw in her head was how the Tyrells had once done the same, feigning loyalty and friendship right before them. _And how many here do the same?_

"We are being freed from siege as we speak," he declared, "but this does not mean our fight is over. The Tyrells are a volatile house, and we cannot be sure of how they will move forward once they've returned to Highgarden, if that's indeed what they plan."  
"Your Grace, if I may," a man stepped forward, one who Sarafine recognised as a member of the Stark guard, "do they still hold Lady Sansa Stark?"  
"So far as we know, yes," Will looked to the ground and the Queen felt awfully sorry for him. She stood.  
"Believe me, we are doing everything we can to return Lady Sansa to safety at this court," the Queen attempted to convince.  
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but it appears to me that this very court is where Sansa wasn't safe," the man spoke truth.  
"You're right," William conceded, "and I apologise _sincerely_ for the lack of security that has befallen Sansa her captivity. That doesn't mean we aren't making every effort to protect her. And everyone here, the guard is being doubled as we speak," he lied, though Sarafine knew he would soon give the order, "until we can know the truth of the Tyrell's intentions, we must be prepared for anything. Store as much of your food as you can, and do your best to serve it in rations as to maintain food supply, and see to it you do so with all other amenities."

The court was dismissed and Sarafine made a decision. _Everything we can,_ she recited, _everything, absolutely everything._  
"Your Grace," a small voice broke her from her thoughts as she waded through the crowd of her people. A small girl stood before her, no older than six.  
"Forgive us, Your Grace," her mother, assumably, placed hands on the girl's shoulders.  
"It's quite alright," Sarafine breathed, "hello, child."  
"Are we going to die, Your Grace?" the girl asked.  
The mother gasped at the child, reprimanding her for her boldness. _Poor girl._  
"No, my sweet," Sarafine touched the girl's cheek, "everything is going to be alright. The King and his men will protect us all."

She continued on her way, shaken from the encounter. _Everything I can,_ she repeated, again and again.  
"Your Grace," a guardsman addressed as she approached.  
"Lady Margaery's cell, take me to it."  
"Your Grace?" he was puzzled.  
" _Take me_ to Margaery Tyrell. Now."

They descended the steps to the Black Cells in silence, however uncomfortable she found it. If she revealed the slightest of her intentions, this man would be hanged just for enabling her.  
"No soul in the world is to hear of this visit, do you understand?"  
"Very much, Your Grace," he nodded.  
"Good. Unlock the door and leave us."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Quite sure, ser."  
"As you wish," he bowed in the low light of the underground, unlocked the cell with a dreadful creak, and left the Queen alone with her worst enemy.

Lady Margaery looked not even the least bit noble as she cowered in her cell, dressed in peasant rags with hair as scraggly as the witches in the scary stories they would've both heard as children. _She doesn't know I'm here,_ Sarafine realised. Awkwardly, and reluctantly, she stepped closer with her lantern and tapped the girl on the shoulder, kneeling down to her height. The cell stank of waste and sweat, and the Queen knew that the gown she wore would have to be thrown away just from the odour. She coughed and Margaery woke with a jolt that scared her half to death.  
"What...Sarafine..." the girl choked and coughed.  
"So it's true..." the Queen saw, "you're barely a lady at all."  
"My state is rather humbling, I'll agree," she croaked, "may I trouble you for some water."  
"If I had some to give you, yes. For now, I do not."  
"Shame," she coughed again.  
"Actually, I may be the most valuable visit you've had yet."  
"Why?" she laughed, bitterly, "are you here to free me?"

Sarafine breathed deeply.  
"Yes."  
The girl didn't even flinch, "you're lying, just leave me to rot. It's what you wanted."  
"What I want isn't what comes first," she declared, "that's how Queenship works."  
"A lesson I'll never need to learn, thanks to you."  
"Don't be bitter, I'm doing you a favour."  
"A favour?" she scoffed, barely standing, "a favour would've been taking my head the second you knew of my family's treasons."  
"Yes, it would've been. But that's not what I'm doing."  
"Why?"  
"Because part of me wants to believe you're innocent in all of this," she admitted, "part of me wants to believe that while you chased my husband and tried to drive Sansa and Joffrey apart, that you did only as you were commanded."  
"As girls must do," she sighed.  
"I didn't lie to you, my lady," Sarafine offered the courtesy, "I am here to free you."  
"Why?" Margaery looked at her with contempt, "you hate me."  
"I love Sansa," she declared, "and I pray that if I let you return to your family, that you will let her return to hers."  
"Your King doesn't know you're here, does he?" Margaery tilted her head and raised an unkempt brow.  
"I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this for Sansa. And for you."  
"For me?" she scoffed.  
"I'm giving you a chance. Convince your family to break allegiance with the Targaryen and return Sansa to us and our quarrel will be done," the Queen offered.  
"I don't think it's that simple."  
"Would you like to see the sun or not? Would you like to drink water at your convenience or sit here parched, choking out words through a throat as dry as the Red Waste? Would you like to see your brother freed, or executed?"  
"You'll free Loras?" she laughed with joy.  
"Once Sansa is returned, it can be arranged."  
"Arranged doesn't sound sure."  
"Arranged is the best you're going to get, my lady," Sarafine reminded.  
"Then we have a deal," Margaery coughed and stood, offering a curtsey.

Sarafine smiled, and suddenly her crown felt heavier.

\- A/N -

Another big (and risky) move from Sarafine, how do you think this will play out? Let me know in a review :)

Hope you're having a lovely week! Also, I've rewritten and am beginning to republish my original story " _If Judas Went to Heaven_ " on my wattpad (cerseiforpresident) so check it out!


	58. XIV - Joffrey

_**JOFFREY XIV**_

Joffrey was already walking on thin ice with his eldest brother, and something in him knew all was to become worse after the Small Council meeting he had summoned everyone to attend. He remained under close guard, though Sansa's imprisonment and his desperate involvement in the efforts to retrieve her had won him some favour with the King, however minimal. _I did try to marry her without telling him..._

When he entered the chamber, he noticed an unexpected guest.  
"Sarafine," he nodded before sitting. She stood next to William, leaving her eyes on the ground as much as she possibly could. _My intuition must be right..._  
Once the rest of the council had arrived before their King and Queen, William ordered them all silent. The tension was thick in the room, though Joffrey could feel the chill between his brother and Sarafine.

"Council members, you may be wondering why my Queen attends with us today..." William started uneasily and looked to his dark-haired Dornishwoman, "would you like to..."  
"We have set Margaery Tyrell free," she blurted with sudden confidence.

The reactions around the room were mixed, the Prince's full of complete and utter confusion.  
"Why?" he squinted, forgetting his courtesies and not caring all the same.  
"For Sansa," she looked to him with eyes full of compassion, and Joffrey began to feel warmer, though the same could not be said for his fellow council members.  
"Yes," William breathed, "for Sansa."

He maintained face, though Joffrey saw through it. _He's furious with her, absolutely furious_.  
"Margaery has agreed that upon her return to her family, that she will persuade them to have Sansa returned to us," the Queen declared, though her confidence was fading.  
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but how can we be sure that she will do this?" Lord Baelish inquired, far more politely than Sarafine deserved.  
"Because we still hold Loras, dishonoured as he may now be, he is still a Tyrell," William took over. The Queen stepped back and closed her mouth.  
"He's not lived with them for years," Tywin informed.  
"Blood is thicker than title with these people," Cersei tried to defend, though Joffrey could see his mother was as disappointed at Sarafine's choice as her eldest son.  
"We best hope so," William muttered, "another announcement, and this one on a much lighter note."

He stood back for a moment, took the hand of his nervous Queen, and looked at her with a smile, however true or false it was.  
"Sarafine is pregnant," he announced with a smile. _Well done, William._  
"Congratulations, Your Grace," the council members muttered, and suddenly a weight was lifted from Joffrey's shoulders.

 _If she births a son, I'm no longer the heir...thank the Gods. Maybe I'll be able to marry Sansa...if she ever returns._  
"Formal celebrations will begin next week when an official announcement is made," he instructed, "this is good news in a time of war. Make sure everyone knows it. Council is dismissed."

Joffrey remained behind with his mother, eager to congratulate his brother and discuss the terms of Margaery's release with his Queen. Though the tones of joy seemed to disappear with the other council members, and the doors shut on William's facade. He let go of his Queen's hand and she stood back.  
"William," Cersei began.  
"No words, any of you. I'm tired of arguing about this. Margaery's gone, all we can do is hope she keeps her word and cares for her brother so much as she says she does," he demanded, his body showing all signs of exhaustion.  
"Sarafine, I understand your want to do this...but why not give up Loras?" the Queen Mother asked.  
"He's injured still, and less warm toward us seeing as we saw to slicing and dicing him. And...he doesn't know Sansa like Margaery does...doesn't feel the same compassion for her," Sarafine tried to convince, though William looked at her only with disdain.  
"The story will go that we all agreed to release Margaery as a bargain for Sansa. No one can know that Sarafine did this without my knowledge," he began to pace, and the Queen sat.  
"Let the consequences fall on my head," she muttered, "I did this in a moment of fury and for that I am sorry. I understand if you want to have her returned."  
"How are we supposed to do that?" William shouted.  
"Offer a reward," Cersei suggested, "most people hate the Tyrells and Margaery can't have gotten far. She's likely still in the city."  
"You may make an announcement, though we can't make it look as if Sarafine made a mistake."  
"I'm not perfect," she voiced, "blame it on me, please. Let me take some of the guilt."  
" _No_ ," Will insisted, "we'll say she escaped...that we need her back. I'll hold court this afternoon. Mother, you are to meet with Lord Baelish on my behalf to discuss the terms."  
"As you wish," she nodded.

The Prince left the Small Council chamber with disappointment. _If Margaery returns, she'll be killed, and then our only hope of getting Sansa back is Loras. Loras who I trusted...who watched my back for years..._ he felt immense betrayal.  
Sitting in his own solar, he put pen to parchment in a moment of despair. _Ravens still travel to Highgarden...and maybe someone will allow Sansa to read my words._

He wrote and wrote, declared his love and regrets, his despair and desire, his hope and lack thereof. Then he tore the paper in a fury. Tears streamed down his pale face, and he knew what heartbreak felt like. _Not pretty like the songs, or sugar-coated like children's tales...it's worse than all the Seven Hells combined._  
"Joffrey," he heard a small whisper that pulled him from his fit of paper-tearing and object-tossing. A teary eyed Sarafine stood in his doorway.  
"Your Grace," he straightened up and tried to maintain composure, "sorry...for...this."  
"I'm sorry too," she said, "for everything that's brought us here."

His Queen walked to him, and took his larger frame against her smaller one. And then they cried together, however guilty they were, they both cried. He couldn't say how long they sat there sobbing and talking of sweet young Sansa Stark, but eventually they were called to the Throne Room. Joffrey's eldest uncle walked them there, his armour clinking as they walked. Sarafine squeezed his hand.  
"We have to be strong," she told him, "for her."  
He nodded.

They entered through the special chamber and back door to a room full of subjects.  
"Silence," William ordered. Joffrey's hopes of seeing Sansa ever again began to dwindle. His mother stepped forward and her and William began to speak of Margaery's alleged _escape_.

 _She's too smart to ever attempt that,_ Joffrey knew, and cursed her all the same.  
"We are offering a reward of forty thousand gold dragons to _anyone_ who returns Margaery Tyrell to the Red Keep," William declared, "dead or alive, with the latter being preferable."

Chatter began in the Throne Room, before the doors opened again with an unexpected boom that silenced everyone. Two guards entered, and _...a girl...have they found her so quickly?_  
"Your Grace," one of them called, "she was found at the city gates, we brought her here to you straight away."  
"Who is it?" William asked.  
"Lady Sansa Stark, Your Grace. Alive."

Joffrey squinted and saw that it truly was her, and he raced toward where she was stood, and in his arms she collapsed.

\- A/N -

She's back! Hallelujah, though does this mean good for the Crown? Let me know what you think in a review!

I hope you all have a lovely weekend :)


	59. XIV - Cersei

_**CERSEI XIV**_

Festivities for the Queen's healthy pregnancy and the end of the Tyrell siege, however brief, had begun with a day-long banquet in the Throne Room. But as Cersei looked to her daughter-by-law, she imagined that there were a million places the woman would rather be. Sansa's return was worth celebrating too, but she was still recovering from captivity and likely wouldn't attend.

She sat and picked at the piece of pie she'd chosen, but the small talk she was surrounded with had left her completely without appetite.  
"Your Grace," a guardsman spoke discreetly over her shoulder, "something for you to attend to."  
"Another Margaery, you mean?"  
"Indeed, shall I tell them to wait?"  
"No," she decided, "no, I'll come now."  
"Is everything alright?" Sarafine asked.  
"Yes, my sweet," Cersei stood, "excuse me."

Sansa's return had changed the circumstances. Now they _needed_ Margaery back, for if Sansa's tale of escape was true — they would be angry. And that was the last thing anyone in King's Landing wanted. Various peasant girls had been brought before the Queen Mother, some mistaken for Margaery and some in the captivity of those attempting to deceive the Crown. Some attempts had been better than others, but none had quite fooled her yet.

Her hopes were dwindling, and though she loved Sarafine dearly, she wished that the Queen had never enacted the wild plan. Even though she doubted this girl was Margaery at all, she decided getting away would be nice, even if it was for such a dire task. Her predictions had been correct, she saw as soon as she entered the mounting yard where the subjects were waiting.  
" _Not her_ ," she declared.  
"Y'Grace," one of the men holding the stranger pleaded, "I fear you are mistaken."  
"Do you?"  
"Y-yes," the man stuttered, "doe-eyed, brown haired."  
"All you are listing is similarities, not evidence to your claim. Release the girl," she demanded, "guards, see to it this innocent child is cleaned and fed before she returns to her home. That will be all."

 _Another failure_ , she thought, _shall we lower the reward to ward off idiots?_  
"Shall we return to the feast, Your Grace?"  
"No, I'd like to see Lady Sansa before," she insisted.  
"The Stark girl is being seen to by Qyburn," the guard informed her, as if to deter the visit.  
"Good, let's be on our way," she turned on her heels and began the walk back to Maegor's.

Upon entering, the girl remained in bed. Qyburn pressed a cool towel to her forehead as sweat beads rested on her arms. The mud was removed from her hair, revealing the grand shades of red and orange once again. She was ill, but recognisable to someone standing at a distance. _But thinner, and with dark circles under her eyes. And bruises...so many bruises..._

"How is she?"  
"Recovering, Your Grace," Qyburn began, "her fever returned overnight, but I am confident it will break before sundown."  
"Has she said anything? About what happened to her?"  
"The lady is still silent on the topic, I'm afraid," the man continued to tinker with spoons and vials.  
"Let me sit with her," she insisted, "I'll take care of her."

Qyburn gave her the instructions for Sansa's care and departed. It seemed hours that Cersei sat at the side of the bed before the girl's icy eyes fluttered open.  
"Sansa, sweet girl," Cersei began, "how do you feel?"  
"Hot," she breathed.  
"Is there anything I can get you? A cool bath, perhaps?"  
"Yes, yes. That would be nice," she agreed and it was ordered.  
"Are you feeling any better since your return?"  
"Less hungry and...safer," she struggled, "I'm content, really."  
"Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" Cersei asked with sincerity, rubbing her hand over Sansa's.  
"I'm fine, truly," she unconvincingly tried to avoid the topic.  
"Sansa," the Queen Mother stopped her, "I know."

Servants entered with buckets of ice and water.  
"I can undress myself," the Stark insisted when a servant began to untie her. Cersei stood back. _The moment is gone,_ she realised.  
"You may return to the feast, Your Grace. I'm quite exhausted."  
"Yes, you are," Cersei nodded with sadness, "I'll visit you again tomorrow."

Unsatisfied and concerned, she left the room and had guards send for Qyburn's return.

The feast appeared just as it had when she'd left, though from the noise it was apparent that much more wine and ale had been consumed in the time she had been gone. Sarafine, though she looked as if she were to fall asleep, remained in the seat next to her distant King. _Gods, Robert, help them to work this out._

Crass jokes from drunk lords filled Cersei's ears, and if she heard correctly, William was laughing too. _He's drunk...very, very drunk._  
"Are you alright?" Cersei inquired to the Queen.  
"Overwhelmed with gratitude," she responded, sarcastically, "can't you tell?"  
"What are they talking about now?"  
"William's _magic_ seed and how magical it must be to have gotten me pregnant on our wedding night," she spoke in a hushed and annoyed tone, "Gods forbid it all just be the mechanics of my body."  
"Men enjoy boasting," the Queen Mother laughed lightly, "I'm sure William's quite embarrassed."  
"Best be careful you don't fuck no tavern wenches, Your Grace! You'll have bastards running wild around this room," one drunken lord called and the King laughed.  
"Yes, it would seem so," Sarafine raised her brows and picked her fork at something, "one more look at any of this over the top feast and I'll be bed ridden. Retire with me?"  
"I best stay for a while," she realised, "go and visit Sansa, she's awake."  
"Thank you," she planted a small kiss on Cersei's cheek and tried to make as discreet an exit as possible.

The Queen Mother felt sorry for her as the crowds clapped and her face turned red. She nodded politely and exited the Throne Room.  
"William," Cersei shuffled next to him.  
"Have a drink with me," he laughed.  
"No, I think you've had enough."  
"Ah, you're probably right," he nodded, emptying his cup into his mouth and laughing, "where's Sarafine off to?"  
"Sansa," she started, "your Queen feels quite ill herself after all the food."  
"Choking on guilt can be an unpleasant experience," her son quipped bitterly.  
"You're making a fool of yourself," Cersei snapped quietly, "you should retire as well. Go and rest."  
"I'm _fine_ ," he laughed, "just joking, is all."  
"I'm sure."  
"Your Grace, Queen Mother," Jaime approached.  
"What is it, Uncle? Do you wish to take my wife's empty seat?"  
"Unfortunately, I can't," he laughed and Cersei became more frustrated, "Catelyn Stark has arrived and I fear she's quite-"  
"Let me handle it," the Queen Mother rose abruptly from her seat.  
"No, let me," William objected.  
" _You_ are drunk and in no fit state to see the mother of your brother's bride."  
"I'm the King, mother!" he laughed.

They walked to Maegor's Holdfast together, Cersei as reluctantly as ever with the knowledge that her son was about to make a grand mess of things.  
"Lady Catelyn!" he exclaimed as if she were an old friend when bursting into Sansa's room.  
"Your Grace," Catelyn addressed, coldly.  
"You must forgive my son, Lady Catelyn, he's rather drunk."  
"Am not," he retorted as if it were a game.  
"William," Sarafine warned.  
"Yes, I can see. Drunk from the feast you held while my daughter fights fever after fever. Care to explain?"  
Cersei swallowed awkwardly and William shuffled his feet.

\- A/N -

Awkward...!

How do you think Lady Catelyn will shake things up at William's court? Let me know in a review! :)


	60. XIV - William

_**WILLIAM XIV**_

His head pounded violently when his eyes opened to the morning sun. _That was foolish_ , he recalled of his wine consumption the day before. _And my actions thereafter just as bad_. He looked to the empty space beside him, and the empty room he was in. There was no sign of her having been there in the night. _I've disappointed her,_ he realised, _maybe it's time I forgive her for doing the same._

William tried to sit up, however much it hurt him. Eventually, after minutes of mental deliberation, he managed some slow steps toward a chair where his robe sat. Wine was in a flagon on the table, but the sight of it made him sick. The door opened.  
"You're awake," Sarafine noted, "I thought you'd still be abed."  
"I think I should be," he responded, his voice husky. He looked to her, gowned in Dornish sand-coloured silk and a shawl. _Gorgeous as ever..._  
"Can I get you anything?"  
"No, I'm alright," he insisted, embarrassed.  
"You can barely stand. Sit," she instructed, wetting a towelette and stepping to him. She pressed it against his forehead, immediately providing relief in more ways than one.  
"Thank you," he smiled, slightly.  
"Now that you've sufficiently punished me for my actions, are we forgiven?"  
"We?" he laughed, the motion causing a return of pain.  
"Gentle," she pressed, "you were quite an embarrassment on _both_ our behalves."

He thought for a moment, as the dampness began to soak into his curls. _Of course I forgive you._  
"Yes, you're forgiven," he smiled. His sweet Queen knelt down to his eye level and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, "always forgiven."  
"Your eyes are red," she noticed, and stood again, "I'll send for Qyburn, I'm sure he has something."  
"No, no, it's fine," he declined, "it's my fault."  
"If you say so."  
"You look lovely today."  
"Thank you," she smiled, "at least let me get you something for the pain."  
"The pain? How do you...?"  
"I'm your wife...as if I don't know when your head hurts," she scoffed, kissing his head gently, "I'll be back. You should get ready...Lady Catelyn isn't impressed with you so far."  
"I'm aware," he looked to his feet, disappointed in himself.  
"Nothing that cannot be mended, I'm sure," she pressed her hand against his cheek.  
"Thank you."

Sarafine began to saunter her way toward the door, the swing of her hips tempting him.  
"You didn't forgive me," he raised his brows as she opened the door.  
"I know," she laughed, "you have a lot of making up to do."  
He smiled to himself once she'd left, and found the energy to stand and dress himself respectably. William found himself at Sansa's door soon enough, but maybe the timing was wrong. The door was ajar, and inside he saw the girl and her mother. Then he heard them.

"I know you want to stay, but...these people, they don't love you, Sansa."  
"You're mistaken, mother," she objected weakly, "they do. And I love them."  
"Allowing you to come here was a risk, already, and it's proven itself _dangerous_ , Sansa, I want you home," her mother insisted.  
"I want to stay."  
"My love, I'm afraid it's not up to you...not after what's happened here. Remember, you will always be at risk so long as you live in this place."

The words worried William, who decided he best announce his arrival before he heard anymore. The page called his name and Lady Catelyn stood as he walked in.  
"Your Grace."  
"Lady Catelyn, Lady Sansa," he nodded, "how are you?"  
"She is recovering," her mother responded, unimpressed. His headache throbbed.  
"Is there anything I can get you?"  
"Your mother's man recommends rest," Catelyn spoke of Qyburn  
"May I have a word outside then, my lady?"

Him and the Stark woman stepped outside. She was dressed in a night robe, clearly having sat at her daughter's side the whole evening. Her dark red hair was unrestrained, flowing down her thin shoulders in auburn waves and framing her tired blue eyes beautifully. William felt sorry for her, and sorry for his own actions  
"I must first beg your forgiveness for my behaviour yesterday. I was quite-"  
"Drunk, yes I could see. What is being done about my daughter?" she was blunt in her speech.  
"Pardon, how do you mean?"  
"Vengeance? Are the Tyrells to be punished for her assault and imprisonment?"  
"In the long term, we believe they are," William frowned slightly, unsure of Catelyn's angle.  
"Your wife released the Tyrell girl," she pointed out. _Damn that._  
"Yes, that she did."  
"How is that punishment?" she inquired, growing more frustrated with him.  
"Sarafine acted in the hopes that Sansa would be returned to us, however, she had already escaped," he tried to defend.  
"And what is being done to see Margaery returned to chains?"  
"Everything that can be done, my lady," he tried to bring calm to the situation, wishing he'd not acted so carelessly the day prior. Catelyn pressed her fingers to her temples and shut her eyes for a moment.  
"I don't mean to offend Your Grace, but you must understand my position as a mother," she breathed.  
"Of course. I do apologise for all that has happened to Sansa in my care, I do. I care for her and your family deeply. She's brought great happiness to my brother and their marriage is what my father wanted."  
"I wish to take her home," Catelyn announced, shocking him.  
"Home? What, to Winterfell?"  
"Yes. She's not well, this is not a healthy place for her."  
"She's betrothed to the prince," he argued calmly.  
"And she can _wait_ until you are prepared to marry them...back in Winterfell."  
"My lady, I don't know that I can agree to this," he shook his head, worried.  
"Your Grace, as I have heard it from my daughter there was much deliberation about whether her betrothal would even stand," Catelyn raised her brows, testing him. He breathed deeply.  
"Those deliberations are _over_ , my lady," he tried to assure.  
"You must understand that it is not a good look for either of our houses that their betrothal was ever in such a delicate state," she shook her head, and he suddenly felt like a child.  
"Forgive me, Lady Catelyn, but wasn't your own marriage a result of the death of your initial betrothed?"  
"This is _not_ what I am saying."

William took a long and deep breath, considering his next words carefully.  
"Lady Catelyn, I'm sorry but I'm not in a position to give you a yes or no answer."  
"I understand, but I will be staying with her until she is fully recovered."  
"That won't be a problem," he assured.  
"If I may return to her," she curtseyed and he nodded, "Your Grace."

He stood a moment, leaning against the wall. His head ached wildly and his heart hurt just as much as he thought of his own child, son or daughter, and the way he would feel if someone had treated them the same way. _My flesh and my blood, my legacy...no, no, no, never._

A serving girl passed him as he began to leave, illness filling his body. They met each other's eyes for a nervous moment, and then she darted hers to the basket of bread she carried and picked up her pace. _So blue, and big,_ herecognised _, no, it can't be..._

He turned.  
"Stop." She did, "who are you?"  
The girl attempted to run, but he pushed through his pain and grabbed her. _It is,_ he saw Margaery Tyrell's signature doe eyes, though not with the hair to match. _But it's her,_ he saw, and fury overtook him. He dragged her into a small hallway.  
"What in seven hells are you doing here?" he grunted, slamming her body against the wall and grabbing her by the forearm. She dropped the basket.  
"That was for Lady Sansa," she twisted her face in annoyance.  
"Do I look concerned?" he spat.  
"Quite, actually," she struggled and he twisted her arm further, bending it toward a break. She cried out and he released her, "what do you even want me for? Sansa's back."  
"You're accused of treason and await trial," he reminded.  
"And when will that be?" she cocked her head sideways.  
"That's not important."  
"And neither is my captivity in the grand scheme of things, let me go," she demanded as if she were queen.  
" _No_."  
"Why? I'm free," she held up her arms.  
"Exactly, why?"  
"Why what?"

She was frustrating him and she knew it. _I hate her._  
"Why didn't you return to your wretched family? Why this...disguise of servant's garb and dyed black hair?"

Her eyes fell.  
"I heard of Sansa's return before I left the city and realised that my return would only mean war," she knelt, trying to pick up the bread pieces.  
"We're in a war."  
"A _worse_ war," she clarified, "Loras isn't someone they'll fight for, he's pledged to serve the Crown, traitor or not. They won't trust him, he's not worth it."  
"And you were?" he leant against the wall, his head hurting still.  
"Yes," she declared, "strange as it sounds, I had a revelation."

The King found himself both frustrated and intrigued, as well as annoyed. _This stupid, stupid Tyrell girl...and my stupid move to promise her a betrothal._  
"And what is the nature of this revelation?" he rubbed his temples with one hand.  
"I don't want to see any of you hurt. I hated pretending to want Sansa gone in front of Joffrey and I hated that I had to pretend her captivity pleased me but I did it for my house and they left without me."  
"Meaning?"  
"They won't wait for me but they won't strike against me, that I can trust. If I stay here, there won't be a battle between our houses and none of us will have to die."  
"What do I care? I could take your head right here and now if I wanted to," he responded, angrily.  
"As is your right, William. Go ahead, if you will. At least I'll know that I died trying to protect the _King's_ peace."

She held his stare for a moment, breaking him.  
"Damn you," he cursed, "I'm meeting with the council again in a few days. You'll have to go back into a cell until then. This is to be discussed."  
"I see, you plan to have me executed in front of your whole council."  
"I plan to keep you here as a hostage with freedom of the castle."  
"Why?"  
"Because you're a better actor than most...an inside source perhaps?"  
"You want me to betray my family?"  
"Haven't you done so already by remaining here?"

She stood.  
"What would you have me do, _Your Grace_?"

Days passed, and the word made its way around that Margaery Tyrell had turned herself in. The Crown told no more and gave no explanation, just that she did and all was well for the short-term. The Targaryen threat remained but was stable, and the Tyrells were not returning to King's Landing any time soon. William was very glad to have Margaery back, and all awkwardness between him and Sarafine was gone from the moment the door locked on the cell again. _For a few days at least._

His wife returned to his bed and lay on his chest at night, her naked skin on his as they recovered from their lovemaking.  
"How long until we can't...?" he asked, embarrassed but also needing to know.  
"It's safe for now," she breathed, "Qyburn says so."  
"You've spoken of this with him?" he was surprised.  
"Of course," she said, "it is important."  
"Very well," he laughed, kissing her hair.  
"We can continue so long as it doesn't hurt _me_ , apparently," she said, "if it does, there are other ways in the meantime," she flirted.  
"Ways we are soon to discover," he squeezed his hands against her behind, eliciting a laugh and kisses and more lovemaking.

 _Please don't hate me_ , he hoped when they readied themselves for the small council meeting he'd invited her to, _I didn't hate you._  
They walked there with crowns on their heads, though he parted ways with her just before entering, going to retrieve Margaery himself, but not from a cell.

She was dressed in her traditional blues and golds, though with no roses this time. The black dye had been washed from her hair, which was styled as it should've been for a lady. Today, she almost looked innocent.  
"Do not disappoint me," he instructed her, allowing the girl to walk behind him. Chatter was at a satisfactory level from what he could hear, but when he opened the door and let Margaery step through after him, all went silent.

"Our newest ally," he declared and she curtseyed. Cersei rose from her seat abruptly, and his wife looked nothing but sad.  
"What is the meaning of this?" his mother asked. William observed the other reactions. Joffrey got up and walked out, while his grandfather remained blank faced.  
"Margaery has agreed to relay information about the Tyrell movements and plans to us in exchange for freedom of the castle."  
"Freedom of the castle? After the fuss you put up about having her imprisoned?" his mother was outraged.  
"Get her out of my sight," Sarafine said, refusing to look at him.  
"This is for the best," he insisted, "Margaery will have a chamber in Maegor's but will not attend court or any social gatherings."  
"I would hope not," Tywin chuckled, "this plan seems feasible enough, William. But if the Tyrells find out we are giving her these luxuries, they'll smell betrayal."  
"I would ask nothing more than a bed and food, my lord," Margaery insisted.  
"You best not," Sarafine stood, "why didn't you leave when I gave you the damned chance?"  
"Sarafine," William warned, "enough."

His wife stormed out, but not before whispering, "suddenly, I'm feeling rather uncomfortable just looking at you."

\- A/N -

Uh-oh...

Do you think this alliance will end well for William? Let me know in a review and have a lovely weekend!


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